faces which expressed excitement or indifference; old, old
faces, scarred and lined and seamed, where avarice, selfishness,
cruelty, dishonesty crossed and recrossed till human semblance was
literally blotted out. Light-o'-loves, gay and careless; hideous old
crones, who watched the unwary and stole the unwary's bets; old women in
black, who figured and figured imaginary winnings and never risked
anything but their nerves. And there were beautiful women, beautifully
gowned, beautifully gemmed, some of them good, some of them indifferent,
and some of them bad. Invariably Hillard found himself speculating on
the history of this woman or that; the more gems, the more history. Here
the half-world of Europe finds its kingdom and rules it madly. The
fortunes these women have poured into this whirligig of chance will
never be computed. And there was the gentlemanly blackleg, the
ticket-of-leave man, and outcasts and thieves; but all of them were well
dressed, and, for the time being, well behaved.

Occasionally Merrihew caught some daring beauty's eye, and usually there
followed a conversation, familiar to all ages and to all peoples,
confined to the eyebrow, the eyelid, and the merry little wrinkles in
the corner. When any spoke to him, however, and many did, for his face
was fresh and pleasing, he would reply in English that he spoke no
French, regretfully.

"There's the chap with the scar. He is a handsome beggar," Hillard
admitted. "I wonder what sort of blackleg he is? He's no ordinary one,
I'm certain. I begin to recognize the face of the man with him. He's a
distinguished diplomat, and he would not associate with a man who was
thoroughly bad, according to law, leaving out the moral side of it. Let
us watch them."

The Italian played like an old hand; a number once in a while, but
making it a point to stake on the colors. Red began to repeat itself. He
doubled and doubled. On the sixth consecutive turn he played the maximum
of twelve thousand francs, and won. The diplomat touched him on the arm
significantly, but the player shook his head. Ten minutes later he had
won forty thousand francs. Again he refused to leave his chair.

"If he stays now," said Hillard, "he will lose it all. His friend is
right."

"Forty thousand francs, eight thousand dollars!" murmured Merrihew
sadly. Why couldn't he have luck like this?

Hillard was a true prophet. There came a change in the smile of fortune.
The game jumped from color t