Sir Percy?"

"Chance, Monsieur, Chance.... With His Royal Highness' permission let
the wilful jade decide."

"I do not understand."

"Three throws of the dice, Monsieur.... Time... Place... Conditions, you
said--three throws and the winner names them.... Do you agree?"

Chauvelin hesitated. Sir Percy's bantering mood did not quite fit
in with his own elaborate plans, moreover the ex-ambassador feared
a pitfall of some sort, and did not quite like to trust to this
arbitration of the dice-box.

He turned, quite involuntarily, in appeal to the Prince of Wales and the
other gentlemen present.

But the Englishman of those days was a born gambler. He lived with the
dice-box in one pocket and a pack of cards in the other. The Prince
himself was no exception to this rule, and the first gentleman in
England was the most avowed worshipper of Hazard in the land.

"Chance, by all means," quoth His Highness gaily.

"Chance! Chance!" repeated the others eagerly.

In the midst of so hostile a crowd, Chauvelin felt it unwise to resist.
Moreover, one second's reflection had already assured him that this
throwing of the dice could not seriously interfere with the success of
his plans. If the meeting took place at all--and Sir Percy now had gone
too far to draw back--then of necessity it would have to take place in
France.

The question of time and conditions of the fight, which at best would
be only a farce--only a means to an end--could not be of paramount
importance.

Therefore he shrugged his shoulders with well-marked indifference, and
said lightly:

"As you please."

There was a small table in the centre of the room with a settee and two
or three chairs arranged close to it. Around this table now an eager
little group had congregated: the Prince of Wales in the forefront,
unwilling to interfere, scarce knowing what madcap plans were floating
through Blakeney's adventurous brain, but excited in spite of himself at
this momentous game of hazard the issues of which seemed so nebulous,
so vaguely fraught with dangers. Close to him were Sir Andrew Ffoulkes,
Lord Anthony Dewhurst, Lord Grenville and perhaps a half score
gentlemen, young men about town mostly, gay and giddy butterflies of
fashion, who did not even attempt to seek in this strange game of chance
any hidden meaning save that it was one of Blakeney's irresponsible
pranks.

And in the centre of the compact group, Sir Percy Blakeney in his
gorgeous suit of s