]
"I don't see the fun of it," objected the young man who had been
Lionel's companion at the supper-table. "You never know where you are
when the joker is in. What do you say, Miles?"
"Oh, have it in by all means," Percival Miles said, with his eyes fixed
on the table.
And perhaps it was that Lionel was anxious and nervous (for much
depended on the results of this night's play), but he seemed to feel
that the pale young man who sat opposite him appeared to be even more
cold and implacable in manner than was usual with him. He began to have
superstitious fears--like most gamblers. That was an uncanny suggestion
his recent companion had put into his head--that here was an avenger--a
deputed instrument--an agent to inflict an awarded punishment. At the
same time he tried to laugh at the notion. Punishment--from this
stripling of a boy! It was a ludicrous idea, to be sure. When Lionel had
in former days accepted his challenge to fight, it was with some kind of
impatient resolve to teach him a wholesome lesson and brush him aside.
And he had regarded his running after Miss Burgoyne with a sort of
good-natured toleration and contempt; there were always those young
fools in the wake of actresses.
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