The Intriguers | Page 3

and I'm somewhat astonished that he has done so well."
"They were all soldiers, I understand. But wasn't there some scandal
about a cousin?"
"Richard Blake?" said Mrs. Keith, making room for Millicent Graham,

her companion, who rejoined them. "It's getting an old story, and I
always found it puzzling. So far as one could Judge, Dick, Blake
should have made an excellent officer; his mother, the Colonel's sister,
was true to the Challoner strain, his father a reckless Irish sportsman."
"But what was the story? I haven't heard it."
"After Blake broke his neck when hunting, the Colonel brought Dick
up, and, as a matter of course, sent him into the army. He became a
sapper, entering the Indian service. There he met his cousin, Bertram,
who was in the line, somewhere on the frontier. They were both sent
with an expedition into the hills, and there was a night attack. It was
important that an advanced post should be defended, and Dick had laid
out the trenches. In the middle of the fight an officer lost his nerve, the
position was stormed, and the expedition terribly cut up. Owing to the
darkness and confusion there was a doubt about who had led the retreat,
but Dick was blamed and made no defense. In spite of this, he was
acquitted at the inquiry, perhaps because he was a favorite and Colonel
Challoner was well known upon the frontier; but the opinion of the
mess was against him. He left the service, and the Challoners never
speak of him."
"I once met Lieutenant Blake," Millicent broke in, with a flush in her
face. "Though he spoke only a word or two to me, he did a very
chivalrous thing; one that needed courage and coolness. I find it hard to
believe that such a man could ever be a coward."
"So do I," Mrs. Keith agreed. "Still, I haven't seen him since he was a
boy."
"I saw him in London just before he went to India," Mrs. Ashborne said.
"It's strange I have never heard the story before; although I have had
whispers of the scandal from several quarters. It seems to be a sort of
skeleton in the closet' for the Challoners."
"The disgrace was a great blow to the Colonel. He has never got over
it."

"I saw some one in the hotel last night that reminded me strongly of
young Blake. But I suppose it couldn't have been."
"No one knows where he is," Mrs. Keith replied. "I believe he went to
East Africa, and from there he may have drifted to America. The
Colonel never hears from him."
She picked up one of her letters which had not yet been opened.
"This," she said, "is from Frances Foster--you know her. I'm sure it will
contain news of the Challoner wedding."
She tore open the envelope and Mrs. Ashborne turned again to her
English newspaper. Millicent sat looking out over the gorge, while her
thoughts went back to a dimly lighted drawing-room in a small London
apartment, where she was feeling very lonely and half dismayed, one
evening soon after she had joined her father. A few beautiful objects of
art were scattered among the shabby furniture; there were stains of
wine on the fine Eastern rug, an inlaid table was scraped and damaged,
and one chair had a broken leg. All she saw spoke of neglect and
vanished prosperity. Hoarse voices and loud laughter came from an ad
joining room, and a smell of cigar smoke accompanied them. Sitting at
the piano, she restlessly turned over some music and now and then
played a few bars to divert her troubled thoughts. Until a few weeks
before, she had led a peaceful life in the country, and it had been a
painful surprise to her to find her father of such doubtful character and
habits. She was interrupted by the violent opening of the door, and a
group of excited men burst into the room. They were shouting with
laughter at a joke which made her blush, and one dragged a companion
in by the arm. Another, breaking off from rude horse-play, came
toward her with a drunken leer. She shrank from his hot face and
wine-laden breath as she drew back, wondering how she could reach
her father, who stood in the doorway trying to restrain his guests. Then
a young man sprang forward, with disgust and anger in his brown face,
and she felt that she was safe. He looked clean and wholesome by
contrast with the rest, and his movements were swift and athletic.
Millicent could remember him very well, for she had often thought of
Lieutenant Blake with gratitude. Just as the tipsy gallant stretched out

his hand to seize her, the electric light went