ve lost quite enough. Yet they say the devil
favors beginners, so you can't come to grief."

The young fellow by this time was too excited to take advice. His cheeks
had an angry flush, his hands trembled as he hastily constructed some
paper currency of considerable value. The parallel horizontal wrinkles
of the gambler were just sketched on his smooth girlish brow as he
returned with his paper. The bank had been losing, but not largely. The
luck turned again as soon as Martin threw down some of his scrip. Thrice
consecutively he lost.

"Excuse me," said Barton suddenly to Cranley, "may I help myself to one
of your cigarettes?"

He stooped as he spoke, over the table, and Cranley saw him pick up the
silver cigarette-case. It was a handsome piece of polished silver.

"Certainly; help yourself. Give me back my cigarette-case, please, when
you have done with it."

He dealt again, and lost.

"What a nice case!" said Barton, examining it closely. "There is an
Arabic word engraved on it."

"Yes, yes," said Cranley, rather impatiently, holding out his hand for
the thing, and pausing before he dealt. "The case was given me by the
late Khedive, dear old Ismail, bless him! The word is a talisman."

"I thought so. The case seemed to bring you luck," said Barton.

Cranley half turned and threw a quick look at him, as rapid and timid as
the glance of a hare in its form.

"Come, give me it back, please," he said.

"Now, just oblige me: let me try what there is in luck. Go on playing
while I rub up my Arabic, and try to read this ineffable name on the
case. Is it the word of Power of Solomon?"

Cranley glanced back again. "All right," he said, "as you are so
curious---j'en donne!"

He offered cards, and lost. Martin's face brightened up. His paper
currency was coming back to him.

"It's a shame," grumbled Cranley, "to rob a fellow of his fetich.
Waiter, a small brandy-and-soda! Confound your awkwardness! Why do you
spill it over the cards?"

By Cranley's own awkwardness, more than the waiter's, a little splash of
the liquid had fallen in front of him, on the black leather part of the
table where he dealt. He went on dealing, and his luck altered again.
The rake was stretched out over both halves of the long table; the gold
and notes and counters, with a fluttering assortment of Martin's I O
U's, were all dragged in. Martin went to the den of the money-changer
sullenly, and came back with fresh supplies.

"Banco?"