"Yes, money; and a lot of it," he retorted. "Look here, Miriam, I'm in a
hole, and a precious deep one this time. Hush! Here's the old man!" He
broke off warningly, as the Marquess came into the hall.
He looked weary and careworn, and his shoulders drooped in the way that
had become habitual with him of late; and he frowned slightly as he
glanced at the cigarette between his son's lips; for he disliked its
penetrating aroma as much as did Celia. Dinner was announced and they
went in; they talked in the desultory fashion which was customary with
them, and the Marquess, apparently lost in thought, did not notice
Heyton's pallor and the furtive glance which every now and then he
directed towards his father. As usual, Heyton did not refuse the
butler's offer of wine, and, after awhile, a hectic flush rose to his
cheek, and he began to talk with a strained and unnatural gaiety.
Miriam, who had been watching him, presently stretched out her hand
towards his glass with a significant frown; but her husband glared at
her and, reaching for the decanter, helped himself. Suddenly, apropos of
nothing, Heyton, addressing the Marquess, said: "Have you noticed that pendant Miriam's wearing?"
The Marquess raised his eyes and smiled at her.
"Very pretty, my dear!" he observed.
"A present from Percy," she said, fingering it. "I'm glad you like it."
"A wedding present," said Heyton, with a sneer. "Not much of a present;
but it was the best I could afford. She's pretty enough to deserve a
complete fit-out of diamonds, don't you think so?"
The Marquess looked up again, half curiously, as if he wondered whether
there were any object in Heyton's remark; his lips moved as if he were
about to speak; but he closed them again and his eyes went back to his
plate. Miriam rose and went to the drawing-room, and almost immediately
afterwards, the Marquess left the table, saying, as he passed Heyton, "That port is rather heavy, Percy; don't drink too much of it."
The weak and vicious face grew red and, with a sneer, Heyton retorted, "Oh, if you begrudge me a glass of wine----" But he spoke under his
breath, and the Marquess apparently did not hear him.
Heyton finished the decanter and then, with a rather unsteady step,
betook himself to the smoking-room, fell into a chair and rang the bell
for coffee and cognac. He drank off the brandy, and took the telegram
from his pocket. It was still in his hand when Miriam came into the
room, closing the door behind her. She stood regarding him in silence
for a moment, with the look of the disappointed woman in her eyes. Not
for the first time did she realise the folly of her conduct; she had
thrown over Derrick Dene for title and position; they were hers now, but
to get them she had sold herself to a man whom she had learned to
despise.