its removal.

"Well," said Mrs. Ricketts, as she sat in an adjoining apartment, "have
you any tidings of our dear 'Amphytrion?'----is he winning to-night?"
The question was addressed to the tall, dark man, who so lately had
been standing behind Dalton's chair, and was our old acquaintance, Count
Petrolaffsky.

"He no win no more, Madame," replied he, solemnly.

"Has he gone away, then?--has he gone home without us?"

"He has gone home, indeed----into the other world," said he, shaking his
head.

"What do you mean, Count? For Heaven's sake, speak intelligibly."

"I mean as I do say, Madame. He play a game as would ruin Rothschild;
always change, and always at de wrong time, and never know when to make
his 'paroli.' Ah, dat is de gran' secret of all play; when you know when
to make your 'paroli' you win de whole world! Well, he is gone now; poor
man, he cannot play no more!"

"Martha--Scroope, do go--learn something--see what has happened."

"Oh, here's the Colonel. Colonel Haggerstone, what is this dreadful news
I hear?"

"Your accomplished friend has taken French leave of you, Madame, and
was in such a hurry to go that he wouldn't wait for another turn of the
cards."

"He ain't d-d-dead?" screamed Purvis.

"I'm very much afraid they insist on burying him tomorrow or next day,
under that impression, sir," said Haggerstone.

"What a terrible event!--how dreadful!" said Martha, feelingly; "and his
poor daughter, who loved him so ardently!"

"That must be thought of," interrupted Mrs. Ricketts, at once roused to
activity by thoughts of self-interest. "Scroope, order the carriage at
once. I must break it to her myself. Have you any particulars for me,
Colonel?"

"None, Madame! If coroners were the fashion here, thay 'd bring in a
verdict of died from backing the wrong color, with a deodand against the
rake!'"

"Yes, it is ver' true, he always play bad," muttered the Pole.

And now the room began to fill with people discussing the late incident
in every possible mood and with every imaginable shade of sentiment. A
few--a very few--dropped some expressions of pity and compassion.
Many preferred to make a display of their own courage by a bantering,
scornful tone, and some only saw in the event how unsuited certain
natures were to contend with the changeful fortunes of high play. These
were, for the most part, Dalton's acquaintances, and who had often told
him--at least, so they now took credit for--that "h