before him the irascible employer, pointing
with relentless finger at the deficiency in the accounts, again he saw
his weeping mother, his stern father,--the disgrace, the irretrievable
past.

"You are not leaving off playing, Sir Michael?" he asked anxiously, as
the latter having handed him over a golden guinea, rose from the table
and without glancing at his late partners in the game, turned his back
on them all.

"Par Dieu!" he retorted, speaking roughly, and none too civilly over his
shoulder, "my pockets are empty.... Like Master Lambert here," he added
with an unmistakable sneer, "I find no pleasure in _this_ sort of game!"

"What do you mean?" queried Segrave hotly.

"Oh, nothing," rejoined the other dryly, "you need not heed my remark.
Are you not losing, too?"

"What does he mean?" said Lambert with a puzzled frown, instinctively
turning to his employer.

"Naught! naught! my good Lambert," replied Sir Marmaduke, dropping his
voice to a whisper. "Sir Michael Isherwood hath lost more than he can
afford and is somewhat choleric of temper, that is all."

"And in a little quiet game, my good young friend," added Endicott,
also in a whisper, "'tis wisest to take no heed of a loser's vapors."

"I pay ace only!" quoth Segrave triumphantly, who in the meanwhile had
continued the game.

Lord Walterton swore a loud and prolonged oath. He had staked five
guineas on a king and had lost.

"Ventre-saint-gris, and likewise par le sang-bleu!" he said, "the first
time I have had a king! Segrave, ye must leave me these few little
yellow toys, else I cannot pay for my lodgings to-night.... I'll give
you a bill ... but I've had enough of this, by Gad!"

And somewhat sobered, though still unsteady, he rose from the table.

"Surely, my lord, you are not leaving off, too?" asked Segrave.

"Nay! ... how can I continue?" He turned his breeches pockets
ostentatiously inside out. "Behold, friend, these two beautiful and
innocent little dears!"

"You can give me more bills ..." urged Segrave, "and you lose ... you
may not lose after this ... 'tis lucky to play on credit ... and ... and
your bills are always met, my lord ..."

He spoke with feverish volubility, though his throat was parched and
every word he uttered caused him pain. But he was determined that the
game should proceed.

He had won a little of his own back again the last few rounds.
Certainly his luck would turn once more. His luck _must_ turn once more,
o