ut neither was he a fool.
With something of a shock he realised that he stood a loser to the
extent of seven or eight pounds. With the realisation he sat
straighter in his chair. It was not that he grudged the money. He
was generous--and could afford generosity. It was rather that that
admirable quality which urges the Englishman to play a losing game
was stirred within him.

"By Jove, Denis!" he said. "I must look to my laurels! I used to play a
better game than this."

Asshlin's only answer was a laugh--a laugh from which all the
bitterness had dropped away, leaving a buoyant ring of absorption and
delight. Under the stimulus of excitement, he had altered. He was
exalted, lifted above the petty discontent, the pessimism, the
despondency that tainted his empty days.

And so for nearly two hours they played steadily; then Milbanke paused
and drew out his watch.

"I don't know what sort of hours you keep in Ireland," he hazarded;
"but it's nearly twelve o'clock."

Asshlin had paused to snuff one of the candles that had begun to
gutter. At the other's words, he glanced up in undisguised surprise.

"Hours?" he repeated. "Why, any--or none at all. You don't know the
glory of having something to sit up for." He paused for a second in a
sort of ecstasy. "You don't know it; you can't know it! You have never
felt the abomination of desolation."

He laughed feverishly and gathered up the cards afresh.

"Come, James! Your deal!"

And in this manner the night wore on. In the early stages of their play
Asshlin's luck stuck to him determinately; but by degrees his
opponent's more cautious and level play began to tell, and their
positions were gradually reversed. By one o'clock Milbanke had made
good his losses and even stood with some trifling amount to his
advantage. Here again he had mildly suggested a cessation; but Asshlin,
more intoxicated by bad than he had been by good fortune, had demanded
his revenge, and called loudly through the quiet house for more candles
and more wine.

But with the fresh round of play, the luck remained unaltered. Milbanke
continued to win.

With a sleepy face, but no expression of surprise, Burke responded to
his master's call, replenishing the light and setting the port upon the
table. But the players scarcely noticed his entrance or departure.
Asshlin was playing with desperate recklessness; and Milbanke, without
intent or consciousness, was slowly falling under the influence of his