bbins lost, and Mark
won. Jim Forbes lost; and his cheeks flushed, and his eyes glittered
with excitement, and he ground his teeth together. The strangers
affected to be surprised at his ill luck; really they couldn't
understand it, they said; they were quite sorry for him; but, "nothing
venture, nothing win"; _his_ turn would come next. But it did not come
that night. Jim had now drawn the whole of his legacy from the bank.
The last sovereign was staked; it was lost. He sprang to his feet,
seized the uncut pack of cards, and hurled it to the further end of the
room; then he shook his fist at his new companions, calling them cheats
and villains. Up darted the man with the exuberant hair, and up rose
Mark and Gubbins. But what was _that_? A strange noise outside. The
dog in the kennel muttered a low growl, and then began to bark
furiously; then the approach of footsteps was plain; a deathlike
stillness fell on the whole party; the strangers caught up the cards and
dice, and looked this way and that, pale and aghast. And now there came
a loud and peremptory knocking at the door, as of men who were
determined to find entrance.

"Who's there?" asked Gubbins, in quivering tones.

"Open the door," was the reply from a deep, loud voice.

"I can't, by no means, do nothing of the sort, at this unseasonable
hour," said the coachman, a little more boldly.

"Open the door, or I'll force it," said the same voice.

Poor Mark! And poor, wretched Jim! How utterly guilty and crestfallen
they looked! As for the gamblers, they cowered together, in abject
terror, not daring to attempt a retreat by the back, lest the enemy
should be lurking for them there.

"Will you open the door, or will you not?"

No answer from within.

Then came a tremendous blow; then a foot was seen forcing its way over
the doorsill, another moment, and the barrier to the entrance of the
invaders gave way with a rattling crash.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

BITTER FRUIT.

No sooner was the door burst open, than in rushed several stout men, who
proceeded to seize and handcuff the four strangers, who made but the
faintest show of resistance. John Gubbins shook with abject terror, as
he tried in vain to double up his fat person into a small compass in a
corner. Jim Forbes stood speechless for a moment, and then darted out
through the open doorway. As for Mark Rothwell, what with shame and
dismay, and semi-intoxication from whisky punch, his position