Soon Bill led Bundle upstairs. There the weak-faced man was on guard, watching all those admitted to the gambling room with a lynx eye. Suddenly recognition came to Bundle.
“Of course,” she said. “How stupid of me. It’s Alfred, who used to be second footman at Chimneys. How are you, Alfred?”
“Nicely, thank you, your ladyship.”
“When did you leave Chimneys, Alfred? Was it long before we got back?”
“It was about a month ago, m’lady. I got a chance of bettering myself, and it seemed a pity not to take it.”
“I suppose they pay you very well here,” remarked Bundle.
“Very fair, m’lady.”
Bundle passed in. It seemed to her that in this room the real life of the club was exposed. The stakes were high, she saw that at once, and the people gathered round the two tables were of the true type. Hawk-eyed, haggard, with the gambling fever in their blood.
She and Bill stayed there for about half an hour. Then Bill grew restive.
“Let’s get out of this place, Bundle, and go on dancing.”
Bundle agreed. There was nothing to be seen here. They went down again. They danced for another half-hour, had fish and chips, and then Bundle declared herself ready to go home.
“But it’s so early,” Bill protested.
“No, it isn’t. Not really. And, anyway, I’ve got a long day in front of me tomorrow.”