Friday's Child Read online

Mrs Hoby gave a little shriek of laughter.‘Oh,my dear, what will you say next, I wonder? Depend upon it, Mrs Gillingham does not come under that category! Why, she must be thirty-five, if she is a day, and very likely more!’

  So upon the following evening Hero was set down at a slip of a house in Curzon Street, and made a somewhat shy entrance into a saloon already full of guests. Her hostess came forward at once, and made her welcome in the kindest way, introducing her to one or two complete strangers, and pressing a glass of champagne upon her. Hero was a little surprised to find that she knew no one in the room, and after looking about her for a while she began to feel uneasy, and to fear that perhaps Sherry would not have wished her to have come. When Sir Matthew Brockenhurst arrived, with the Honourable Wilfrid Yarford, she wished it more than ever, and had she known how to excuse herself without giving offence to her hostess, or drawing upon herself the particular notice she wished to avoid, she would certainly have done so. She did not know, however, and when the company adjourned to a much larger apartment on the first floor, where card tables were set out, she meekly allowed herself to be shepherded up the stairs with the rest of the guests.

  She liked playing cards, and since she had been initiated into the mysteries of faro, rouge et noir, macao, and a number of other games of chance by Sherry himself, she naturally considered that she was well able to hold her own in any company. This proved, however, not to be the case. The stakes, too, were much higher than any she had yet played for, and she was soon put into a little confusion by finding herself without any more money to stake. Mrs Gillingham was kindness itself, smiling at her innocence, and explaining to her how everyone punted on tick until the luck turned for them, and showing her how to write a vowel. Hero remembered hearing Sherry talk of having given vowels, so she knew that this must be the accepted custom, and settled down to win back her losses. She became so absorbed in the game that she scarcely noticed anything beyond the turn of a card; and what with the excitement of the play, the heat of the room, and the champagne which was continually poured into her glass, she began to plunge more and more heavily, arising in the small hours a much greater loser than she had had any very clear idea of. Her vowels appeared, incredibly, to run into four figures, and how she was ever to pay such a sum until her next quarter’s allowance should be paid to her account she had not the least idea. But here again Mrs Gillingham was most understanding, assuring her that Jack Cranbourne, who had held the bank, would not dream of pressing for payment, and expressing her conviction that another evening’s play would see all the vowels redeemed, and a stream of guineas pouring into her young friend’s lap. Hero, effectually sobered by her losses, had no desire to spend another evening in this house, but she knew that what Mrs Gillingham said was true, because Sherry had said the same. One had only to have courage, to ignore one’s losses, and to continue playing, for the luck to change, and set all to rights.

  But the second night’s play was even more disastrous than the first; and some warning instinct in Hero told her that a third would be no more successful. Thoroughly frightened, shivering at the thought of the vast sums she had lost, and not knowing which way to turn in her extremity, she spent what was left of the night in tossing about in her bed, and racking her brains to find a way out of her difficulties. To present Sherry with the sum of her obligations seemed to her unthinkable, for poor Sherry had his own obligations, and had said only a week earlier that they must really try to practise economy. Hero wept into her pillow with grief to think that she should have added to Sherry’s embarrassments; and thought that her mother-in-law had spoken no less than the truth when she had accused her of having wrecked his life.

  He came home from Newmarket that day, to find a heavy-eyed wife, who explained nervously that she had the headache. He said that he had one himself, and had no hesitation in ascribing it to the malignant behaviour of four out of five of the horses he had backed. Hero turned pale, and faltered:‘Was your luck so very bad, Sherry?’

  ‘Devilish!’ he replied.‘If it goes on like this I shall find myself in the hands of some curst cent-per-cent, I can tell you!’ He broke the wafer of one of the letters which had been awaiting him, and ejaculated: ‘Bills! nothing but bills! There’s no end to it! What a damned homecoming for a man!’

  ‘What – what is a cent-per-cent, Sherry?’ asked his wife in a small voice.

  ‘Moneylender,’ he replied, consigning another bill to the fire, and breaking open a more promising-looking billet.

  ‘Do people lend one money?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Usurers do – at a devilish rate of interest, too! I know ’em all too well! Used to be for ever at Howard and Gibbs before the Trust was wound up.’

  ‘Howard and Gibbs, did you say, Sherry?’

  ‘Yes, they’re about the best of the blood-suckers, and that ain’t saying much.’ He looked up from his letter.‘What the deuce do you want to know about moneylenders for, Kitten?’

  ‘I – only that I did not perfectly understand what a cent-percent is!’ she said quickly.

  ‘Well, don’t go talking of ’em!’ he warned her. ‘It ain’t a genteel expression!’

  That highly successful firm of philanthropists, Messrs. Howard and Gibbs, received upon the following morning a visit from a closely-veiled lady, who drove up in a hackney, and was plainly ignorant of the principles which governed the particular form of finance practised by the firm. The respectable gentleman who interviewed this lady seemed at first strangely disinclined to accommodate her. He bewildered her by talking suavely of securities and credentials, but when she disclosed to him her identity his manner underwent a gratifying change, and he not only explained the terms on which the firm would be ready to advance a loan, but expressed his willingness to serve her in any way possible. He seemed to have no difficulty in understanding how it came about that she had lost such a sum in only two nights’ play, and showed himself in general to be so sympathetic that his client presently left the building with a high opinion of the whole race of moneylenders.

  But while his wife was happily redeeming vowels with the money so generously advanced to her by Messrs. Howard and Gibbs, Sherry had received a billet on gilt-edged, scented notepaper from a lady with whom he had had no dealings since his marriage. He frowned over this missive, for he was not in the mood to embark on the kind of intrigue its mysterious wording seemed to promise. The writer said that she did not like to ask him to visit her, but she had something to say to him which was of vast importance, and which he would regret not hearing. Sherry read this through twice, decided that Nancy had never been one to play tricks on a fellow, and took himself off to the street in which she had her lodging.

  He found her at home, and was received by her with her merriest smile and most welcoming manner. ‘Sherry, I hoped you would come!’ she said.‘I oughtn’t to ask it of you, I dare say, but give me a kiss for old times’ sake!’

  He obeyed this behest willingly enough, for if she was growing to be a little faded she was still a cosy armful, and he had a fondness for her quite apart from his amorous dealings with her.‘Yes, this is all very well, Nancy, but I’m a married man now! Turned over a new leaf !’ he said, giving her plump shoulders a hug.

  ‘Lord bless you, Sherry, don’t I know that? And you need not be thinking that I’ve sent for you to make trouble, for that’s what I would never do, and so you should know! It’s because we’ve had some delightful times together, and I always liked you, that I asked you to come. Yes, and I like the look of that little wife of yours, Sherry – and that’s the root of the matter!’

  ‘What the deuce has my wife to do with it?’ he demanded.

  ‘Sit down,my dear, and take that ugly frown off your face, do! You’ve been at Newmarket, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘Well, now, Sherry, if I’m telling you something you don’t care to hear from me, just you remember that I wouldn’t breathe a word if I weren’t fond of you, and if I didn’t happen to have