ziness, from him perversity: a more provocative and, on the
whole, more contagious disease. The gambler does not seek to lead his
fellows into perdition; the snared of the Demon have pleasure in the
act. Hence our naturally interested forecasts of the contests between
them: for if he is beaten, as all must be at the close of an extended
game with her, we have only to harden the brain against her allurements
and we enter a clearer field.

Woodseer said to Fleetwood: 'That ball has a look of a nymph running
round and round till she changes to one of the Fates.'

'We'll have a run with her,' said Fleetwood, keener for business than
for metaphors--at the moment.

He received gold for a bank-note. Captain Abrane hurriedly begged a
loan. Both of them threw. Neither of them threw on the six numbers
Woodseer would have selected, and they lost. He stated that the number
of 17 had won before. Abrane tried the transversal enclosing this
favoured number. 'Of course!' he cried, with foul resignation and a
hostile glare: the ball had seated itself and was grinning at him from
the lowest of the stalls.

Fleetwood quitted the table-numbers to throw on Pair; he won, won again,
pushed his luck and lost, dragging Abrane with him. The giant varied
his tone of acquiescence in Fortune's whims: 'Of course! I 've only to
fling! Luck hangs right enough till I put down my stake.'

'If the luck has gone three times, the chances....' Woodseer was rather
inquiring than pronouncing.... Lord Fleetwood cut him short. 'The
chances are equally the contrary!' and discomposed his argumentative
mind.

As argument in such a place was impossible, he had a wild idea
of example--'just to see'--; and though he smiled, his brain was
liquefying. Upon a calculation of the chances, merely for the humour of
it, he laid a silver piece on the first six, which had been neglected.
They were now blest. He laid his winnings on the numbed 17. Who would
have expected it? why, the player, surely! Woodseer comported himself
like a veteran: he had proved that you can calculate the chances.
Instead of turning in triumph to Lord Fleetwood, he laid gold pieces to
hug the number 17, and ten in the centre. And it is the truth, he hoped
then to lose and have done with it--after proving his case. The ball
whirled, kicked, tried for seat in two, in three points, and entered 17.
The usual temporary wonderment flew round the table; and this number was
courted in dread, avoided wi