dine with me, by all means," Jacob invited, "but I have a
few acquaintances here, and if I want any more no doubt I shall be
able to pick them up."

The young man looked at his watch.

"I have an appointment at table number five and a louis to go on
number fourteen, in a few minutes," he declared. "So long."

Jacob took out his card for the Rooms and the Sporting Club, lunched
leisurely with an acquaintance whom he had met on the train coming
down, made a few purchases, gambled mildly, with some success, and had
just changed and descended for his cocktail before dinner at the Paris
when Felixstowe strolled in. He smote Jacob on the back and ordered
delectable drinks.

"Your money has the right touch, old bean," he declared. "It's the
sort that worms its way to glory. I can assure you my little bit went
through the croupier's hands like water. Yours--God bless you, old
dear! We'll drink fizz to-night. To think that if I hadn't met you I
might have been trying the _vin ordinaire_ on my way back!"

"Do I gather that you won?" Jacob asked.

"Thirteen hundred of the best, my pocket Croesus," was the jubilant
reply. "To-morrow you shall have your pony back--not to-night. Your
money brings me luck, Jacob. It's the stuff I've been looking for."

They made their way into the dining-room, where Felixstowe was greeted
by many acquaintances. A bewildering confection in black and white
claimed his attention. He rejoined Jacob a moment later with a
proposition.

"Couple of little fairies there who'd like to hitch on, Jacob," he
suggested. "Betty Tomlinson's one, little girl I used to know at the
Gaiety. Got a flat in Paris now. The other little thing is an American
in the same line of business."

Jacob shook his head.

"If you don't mind," he said, "I'd rather not."

"The hand that pays the reckoning rules the roost," Felixstowe
paraphrased cheerfully. "Wait till I hand 'em the mit. Tell Louis to
put a magnum on the ice."

"Look here, young fellow," Jacob observed, when his young friend made
his joyous return, "just how old are you?"

"Twenty-four," Lord Felixstowe confided. "And if it's the wine you are
thinking about, don't you worry. We've got it in our blood and we
thrive on it. We doubled this little allowance each, the night after
we won the regimental polo cup, and I made a hundred and seven against
Yorkshire the following day. You should see the governor--a sallow,
lean-looking man, without an ounce of colour