Bewitched (Bantam Series No. 16) Read Free

like a piece of scrap-paper!”
    “The whole thing is a complete fake!” Prince Esterhazy exclaimed.
    “Of course it is!” Sir Algernon agreed. “And anyone with sensibility or taste is able at a glance to tell the dross from the gold— the fake from the real.”
    “What do you think, Ruckley?” Lord Alvanley enquired.
    “I agree with you,” the Marquis replied. “I am sure, if the lady in question was astute enough, she could easily convince the average man that she was who she pretended to be. Surely it is only a question of acting?”
    “Well, I can tell you one thing,” Sir Algernon said heatedly, “no woman or man would be able to deceive me. I can smell a parvenu a mile away!”
    “Would you care to bet on it?” Lord Alvanley enquired.
    “Of course,” Sir Algernon answered.
    “Why not?” Lord Worcester said. “We can all set ourselves to deceive Gibbon and make him eat his words. He is getting too pompous by half!”
    Everyone laughed and Sir Algernon took it good-humouredly.
    “All right,” he said, “I will accept your bets. In fact I will go further. I will make it worth your while. I will bet you one thousand guineas to a hundred that you will not find a man or woman who can convince me that they are blue-blooded when they are in fact exactly the opposite.”
    There was a roar of laughter from the gentlemen standing round him.
    “Good for you, Gibbon!” Lord Worcester exclaimed. “I like a man who is prepared to back up his assertions in hard cash. What is more, I can do with some blunt at the moment!”
    “Are foreigners barred?” Prince Esterhazy asked.
    “No-one is barred,” Sir Algernon declared. “But if you fail to deceive me, Gentlemen, then each failure will cost you fifty guineas! I promise you I shall be well in pocket before the year is out.”
    “I am not sure that he is not betting on a certainty,” Captain Collington said in a low voice to the Marquis.
    They were both aware that Sir Algernon was very astute, and he had made a fetish of good taste whether it concerned dress, deportment or the furniture which graced his houses.
    He was wealthy because his mother had been an heiress, and his family tree, which dated back to Tudor times, was an example of how the great families of England inter-married amongst themselves.
    Genealogy was Sir Algernon’s main interest in life and the College of Heralds found him a continual thorn in their flesh as he frequently pointed out to them their mistakes.
    Now Sir Algernon asked one of the stewards to bring him the Betting-Book.
    Bound in leather and dating from 1743, the first record book having been destroyed in a fire several years earlier, it was an amazing record of the Members’ personal interests.
    The bets were entered in a very irregular manner, the writing showing all too clearly that a great number of the wagers had been made after dinner and entered by a hand that found it difficult to write clearly.
    “Now how many of you are challenging me?” Sir Algernon enquired.
    He sat down on a chair as he spoke and, putting the Betting-Book on a table in front of him, inscribed their names one after the other.
    There were finally five—Prince Esterhazy, Lord Alvanley, Lord Worcester, Captain Collington and the Marquis.
    “You have a year in which to confront me,” Sir Algernon said. “If you have not been successful by that time in taking a thousand guineas from me, then I will give you all the best dinner that the Club can provide.”
    “Do not worry,” the Prince said. “Long before that I shall be carrying your gold away in my pocket!”
    “You are wrong,” Lord Alvanley said, “I shall be the first to win because I need the money and therefore cannot wait!”
    “Perhaps your luck will change tonight,” the Prince answered, “in which case there will not be so much urgency where you are concerned.”
    Lord Alvanley needed luck, as the Prince well knew. His extravagance had ruined him, and he owed a gaming debt