s mother's relations
still cherished hopes of snatching him as a brand from the burning.

The front rooms of the club were tolerably full still. He passed on to
the back. A door-keeper stationed in the passage stepped back and
silently opened a door. It closed instantly behind him, and Wharton
found himself in a room with some twenty other young fellows playing
baccarat, piles of shining money on the tables, the electric lamps hung
over each, lighting every detail of the scene with the same searching
disenchanting glare.

"I say!" cried a young dark-haired fellow, like a dishevelled Lord
Byron. "Here comes the Labour leader--make room!"

And amid laughter and chaffing he was drawn down to the baccarat table,
where a new deal was just beginning. He felt in his pockets for money;
his eyes, intent and shining, followed every motion of the dealer's
hand. For three years now, ever since his return from his travels, the
gambler's passion had been stealing on him. Already this season he had
lost and won--on the whole lost--large sums. And the fact was--so
far--absolutely unknown except to the men with whom he played in this
room.

CHAPTER III.

"If yer goin' downstairs, Nuss, you'd better take that there scuttle
with yer, for the coals is gittin' low an' it ull save yer a journey!"

Marcella looked with amusement at her adviser--a small bandy-legged boy
in shirt and knickerbockers, with black Jewish eyes in a strongly
featured face. He stood leaning on the broom he had just been wielding,
his sleeves rolled up to the shoulder showing his tiny arms; his
expression sharp and keen as a hawk's.

"Well, Benny, then you look after your mother while I'm gone, and don't
let any one in but the doctor."

And Marcella turned for an instant towards the bed whereon lay a sick
woman too feeble apparently to speak or move.

"I aint a goin' ter," said the boy, shortly, beginning to sweep again
with energy, "an' if this 'ere baby cries, give it the bottle, I
s'pose?"

"No, certainly not," said Marcella, firmly; "it has just had one. You
sweep away, Benny, and let the baby alone."

Benny looked a trifle wounded, but recovered himself immediately, and
ran a general's eye over Marcella who was just about to leave the room.

"Now look 'ere, Nuss," he said in a tone of pitying remonstrance, "yer
never a goin' down to that 'ere coal cellar without a light. Yer'll 'ave
to come runnin' up all them stairs again--sure as I'm alive