"Sincerely,
"(MRS.) EMMA DE LANCEY."
"Do you know anything about it?" I asked casually handing the
letter back.
"Only by hearsay. I understand it is the crookedest gambling joint
in the city, at least judging by the stories they tell of the
losses there. And so beastly aristocratic, too. They tell me young
Forbes has lost a small fortune there--but I don't know how true
it is. We get hundreds of these daintily perfumed and monogramed
little missives in the course of a year."
"You mean Angus Forbes?" I asked.
"Yes," replied the managing editor, "the fellow that they say has
been trying to capture your friend Miss Winslow."
I did not reply for the moment. Forbes, I had already learned, was
deeply in debt. Was it part of his plan to get control of the
little fortune of Violet to recoup his losses?
"Do you know Mrs. de Lancey?" pursued the editor.
"No--not yet," I answered. "I was just wondering what sort of
person she is."
"Oh I suppose she's all right," he answered, "but they say she's
pretty straight-laced--that cards and all sorts of dissipation are
an obsession with her.
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