by Jove! What next?'

'I'll tell you. I forged a letter in his handwriting to Louisa, written
as if on his death-bed, commanding as his last prayer that she should
never see Hinton again; or if by any accident they should meet, that she
should not recognise him nor know him.'

'Devilish clever, that; egad, a better martingale than that you invented
a while ago. I say, pass the wine! red fourteen times--wasn't it
fourteen?--and if it had not been for your cursed obstinacy I'd have
backed the red. See, fifty naps! one hundred, four, eight, sixteen,
thirty-four, or six--which is it? Oh, confounded stupidity!'

'Come, come, Dudley! better luck another time. Louisa's eyes must have
been too kindly bent on you, or you 'd have been more fortunate.'

'Eh, you think she likes me?--Capital champagne that!--I always thought
she did from the first. That's what I call walking inside of Hinton. How
he'll look! Ha! ha! ha!'

'Yes, how he'll look!' echoed Burke, endeavouring to join the laugh.
'But now one thing is yet wanting.'

'You mean those despatches,' replied De Vere suddenly. 'You always come
back to that. Well, once for all, I say no!'

'Just hear me, Dudley! Nothing is easier; nothing incurs less risk.'

'Less risk! what do you mean? No risk for me to steal the papers of the
embassy, and give them to you to hand over to that scoundrel at the head
of the secret police? Devilish green I may be, but not so green as that,
Master Burke!'

'Guillemain will give us forty thousand francs. Forty thousand! with
half that, and your luck, De Vere, we'll break every bank in Paris. I
know you don't wish to marry Louisa.'

'No; hang it, that's always the wind-up. Keep that for the last throw,
eh?--There's heavy play there; see how silent they are.'

'Ay; and with forty thousand francs we might join them,' said Burke, as
if musing; 'and so safely it may be done.'

'I say no!' replied De Vere resolutely.

'What do you fear? Is it me?'

'No, not you! I believe you are true enough. Your own neck will be
in the rope too; so you'll say nothing. But I won't do it!--pass the
champagne!--there's something so devilish blackguard in stealing a man's
papers.'

Burke started, as if the tones of his companion's voice had stung him
like an adder.

'Have you thought over your present condition?' said Burke firmly. 'You
have not a guinea left; your debts in Paris alone, to my knowledge, are
above forty thousand francs!'

'I'll never pa