evidently. It was only an inconsequent incident, and a moment
later both had forgotten it. By and by they proceeded to the Casino.
Rarely women wear veils at Monte Carlo. On the contrary, they go there
(most of them) to be seen, admired and envied. Thus, these two were
fully aware of the interest they excited. At frequent intervals
royalty--the feminine side of the family--steals into Monte Carlo, often
unattended. When one's yacht is in the harbor below, it does not entail
much danger. There is a superstition regarding veils; but no attendant
requested the women to remove them. They dared not, for fear of
affronting royalty. It was a delicate situation, so far as the
attendants were concerned.

"At which table shall I make the stake, Kitty?"

"The center; there is always a crush there, and we shall not be
noticed."

"I do not agree with you there. However, it shall be the center table.
What would you do, Kitty, if I should break the bank?"

"Die of excitement!" truthfully.

"You will live through this event, then." With a light careless laugh,
La Signorina pressed her way to the table.

The play here was in full swing, and in some cases very high. She opened
her purse and took out a handful of gold. These napoleons were all that
remained of the capital intrusted her. She hesitated for some time, then
placed a coin on the number twenty-five, her age. The ivory ball spun
round and round, till it lost some of its force and slanted, struck one
of the little silver obstacles, and bounded into one of the
compartments. It was the number twenty-five: thirty-five napoleons for
one, a hundred and forty dollars! Kitty uttered an ejaculation of
delight. Many looked enviously at the winner as the neat little stack of
gold was pushed toward her. She took the gold and placed it on black.
Again she won. Then fortune packed up and went elsewhere. She lost
steadily, winning but one bet in every ten. She gave no sign, however,
that her forces were in full retreat from the enemy. She played on, and
the hand which placed the bets was steady. She was a thoroughbred. And
when the gold was all gone, she opened her empty hands expressively and
shrugged. She was beaten. Behind the chair of the banker, opposite,
stood the Italian. The scowl still marred his forehead. When the woman
in the veil spread out her hands, he started. There was something
familiar to his mind in that gesture. And then the woman saw him. For
the briefest moment he