CHAPTER TWELVEThe Marquis of Stade sat down to breakfast with the air of a man who has been asked to eat at his own funeral.
He declined the appetising dishes that his butler brought him one by one and finally contented himself with merely picking at a lamb cutlet.
“What is the time, Masters?” he asked in the tone of one who would not be surprised if he was told it was the crack of doom.
“’Tis five minutes past noon, my Lord,” Masters said in a respectful tone and added, “what does your Lordship wish me to do with the money you brought home last night?”
The Marquis glanced briefly at the pile of gold coins and notes that stood on a side table where he had laid them after he returned from the gaming rooms.
He did not answer and Masters went on,
“There is also the money that you won th
