"
After chatting for a few minutes, Lady Greendale made some excuse
to leave the room.
"She knew that you were coming, and that I wanted to speak to you,"
said Bertha.
"Well, what is it--anything of importance?" he asked with a smile.
She hesitated and then went on.
"Some words you spoke yesterday recalled to me something you said
nearly four years ago. Do you remember when we sat next to each
other in the twilight, the day before you went to India? We were
talking about superstitions then, and you told me that you had only
one, and said what it was--you remember?"
"I remember," he said, gravely.
"About someone who had beaten you always, and who you thought
always would beat you, if you came in contact again. You would not
tell me his name. Was it Mr. Carthew?"
"I would not answer the question then, Bertha, and you surely
cannot expect me to answer it now."
"I do expect you to answer it."
"Then I must most emphatically decline to do so," he said. "What!
do you think that if it were he, I would be so base as to discredit
him now? For you must remember that I said that only one of my
defeats was due to foul play, that most of the others were simply
due to the fact that he was a better man than I was.
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