when, immediately after Henri's triumph at
the race-track, a bettor on the opposite side paid one of his wagers by
offering to the victor a grand dinner at the Freres-Provencaux.

CHAPTER II

BIRDS OF PREY

The hero of the night was seated at the middle of one side of the table,
in the place of honor. For his 'vis-a-vis' he had his lively friend Fanny
Dorville, star of the Palais Royal, while at his right sat Heloise Virot,
the "first old woman," or duenna, of the same theatre, whose well known
jests and eccentricities added their own piquancy to gay life in Paris.
The two artists, being compelled to appear in the after-piece at their
theatre that evening, had come to the dinner made up and in full stage
costume, ready to appear behind the footlights at the summons of the
call-boy.

The other guests were young men accustomed to the surroundings of the
weighing-stand and the betting-room, at a time when betting had not yet
become a practice of the masses; and most of them felt highly honored to
rub elbows with a nobleman of ancient lineage, as was Henri de Prerolles.

Among these persons was Andre Desvanneaux, whose father, a churchwarden
at Ste.-Clotilde, had attained a certain social prestige by his good
works, and Paul Landry, in his licentiate in a large banking house in
Paris. The last named was the son of a ship-owner at Havre, and his
character was ambitious and calculating. He cherished, under a quiet
demeanor, a strong hope of being able to supply, by the rapid acquisition
of a fortune, the deficiencies of his inferior birth, from which his
secret vanity suffered severely. Being an expert in all games of chance,
he had already accumulated, while waiting for some brilliant coup, enough
to lead a life of comparative elegance, thus giving a certain
satisfaction to his instincts. He and Henri de Prerolles never yet had
played cards together, but the occasion was sure to come some day, and
Paul Landry had desired it a long time.

The company, a little silent at first, was becoming somewhat more
animated, when a head-waiter, correct, and full of a sense of his own
importance, entered the salon, holding out before him with both hands a
large tray covered with slender glasses filled with a beverage called
"the cardinal's drink," composed of champagne, Bordeaux, and slices of
pineapple. The method of blending these materials was a professional
secret of the Freres-Provencaux.

Instantly the guests were on t