wkins's brief exultation passed away. He saw that he was indeed in the
power of an unscrupulous man, who was disposed to push his advantage to
the utmost.

He subsided into a moody silence, which Duval watched with satisfaction.

"Well, my friend, what will you do about it?"

"I don't know what I can do."

"You will think of something. You will find it best," said the
Frenchman, in a tone which veiled a threat.

"I will try," said Dawkins, gloomily.

"That is well. I thought you would listen to reason, mon ami. Now we
will have a pleasant chat. Hold, I will order some brandy myself."

"Not for me," said Dawkins, rising from his chair, "I must be going."

"Will you not have one little game?" asked Duval, coaxingly.

"No, no, I have had enough of that. Goodnight."

"Then you won't stop. And when shall I have the pleasure of seeing you
at my little apartment once more?"

"I don't know."

"If it is any trouble to you to come, I will call at your office," said
Duval, significantly.

"Don't trouble yourself," said Dawkins, hastily; "I will come here a
week from today."

"A week is a long time."

"Long or short, I must have it."

"Very well, mon ami. A week let it be. Good-night. Mind the stairs as
you go down."

Dawkins breathed more freely as he passed out into the open air. He was
beginning to realize that the way of the transgressor is hard.

XXX.

A TRAP IS LAID FOR PAUL.

Three months before, George Dawkins had made his first visit to a
gambling house. At first, he had entered only from curiosity. He watched
the play with an interest which gradually deepened, until he was easily
persuaded to try his own luck. The stakes were small, but fortune
favored him, and he came out some dollars richer than he entered. It
would have been fortunate for him if he had failed. As it was, his
good fortune encouraged him to another visit. This time he was less
fortunate, but his gains about balanced his losses, so that he came out
even. On the next occasion he left off with empty pockets. So it went on
until at length he fell into the hands of Duval, who had no scruple in
fleecing him to as great an extent as he could be induced to go.

George Dawkins's reflections were not of the most cheerful character as,
leaving Duval, he slowly pursued his way homeward. He felt that he had
fallen into the power of an unscrupulous villain, who would have no
mercy upon him. He execrated his own folly, without which a