Ambition's Slave

HE night had come, and Marvyn Chase was a blaze of light. The magnificent grounds gleamed with electric arc and other lamps, there were brilliant alleys picked out in flame, two of the finest bands in the county discoursed soft music in the lovely June night... There were banks of soft green ferns to rest the tired and jaded eye. Quite two hundred couples were waltzing in the big oak hall. Their fancy costumes made a flashing kaleidoscope of colour.The solitary individual who wore no disguise at all was the master of the house. He was a short, thick-set, clean-shaven man, with a certain bull-dog expression. His evening-dress was quite plain and not in the least loud. He might have been a sporting farmer, and indeed his tastes were in that direction. Hard as Graham Minter was with men, he was fond of dogs and horses, and they were fond of him. He could ride and shoot to perfection. His pink face and bloodshot eyes suggested an over indulgence in good living. But Minter boasted that he could live with the fastest and wake the next day with a head as clear as a bell.There was a slight frown on the bulldog face and a close-setting of the heavy lips. He seemed to be looking for somebody. He liked to see in the papers that this and that distinguished aristocrat had dined with him, but he cared nothing for all the lavish display and frivolity That was Lady Mary’s doing. It mattered nothing to him that he did not know half his guests by sight. They would have ignored him utterly if they had known him. They came there, they sponged on him, some of them fawned upon him for advice, but he knew what they really thought...