However amusing the minstrels may have been, they had not succeeded in attracting all the passengers. Numbers of them had flocked to their usual haunt, the “smoking-room,” and were eagerly pressing round the gaming-tables, where enormous stakes were being made, some defending their acquisitions during the voyage, others trying to conquer fate by making rash wagers at the last moment. The room was in a violent uproar, one could hear the voice of the money agent crying the stakes, the oaths of the losers, the clinking of gold, and the rustling of dollar-papers; then there was a sudden lull, the uproar was silenced by a bold stake, but as soon as the result was known the noise was redoubled. I very seldom entered the smoking-room, for I have a horror of gambling. It is always a vulgar and often an unhealthy pastime, and it is a vice which does not go alone; the man who gambles will find himself capable of any evil. Here reigned Harry Drake in the midst of his parasites, here also flourished those adventurers who were going to seek their fortunes in America. I always avoided a meeting with these boisterous men, so this evening I passed the door without going in, when my attention was arrested by a violent outburst of cries and curses. I listened, and, after a moment’s silence, to my great astonishment I thought I could distinguish Fabian’s voice. What could he be doing in this place? Had he come here to look for his enemy, and thus the catastrophe, until now avoided, been brought about? I quickly pushed the door open: at this moment the uproar was at its height. In the midst of the crowd of gamblers I saw Fabian standing facing Harry Drake. I hurried towards him, Harry Drake had undoubtedly grossly insulted him, for Fabian was aiming a blow with his fist at him, and if it did not reach the place it was intended for, it was only because Corsican suddenly appeared and stopped him with a quick gesture. But, addressing himself to his enemy, Fabian said, in a cold, sarcastic tone,— “Do you accept that blow?” “Yes,” replied Drake, “and here is my card!” Thus, in spite of our efforts, an inevitable fatality had brought these two deadly enemies together. It was too late to separate them now, events must take their course. Captain Corsican looked at me, and I was surprised to see sadness rather than annoyance in his eyes. [Illustration: “DO YOU ACCEPT THAT BLOW?”] In the meantime Fabian picked up the card which Harry Drake had thrown on the table. He held it between the tips of his fingers as if loath to touch it. Corsican was pale, and my heart beat wildly. At last Fabian looked at the card, and read the name on it, then with a voice stifled by passion he cried,— “Harry Drake! you! you! you!” “The same, Captain Mac Elwin,” quietly replied Fabian’s rival. We were not deceived, if Fabian was ignorant until now of Drake’s name, the latter was only too well aware of Fabian’s presence on the “Great Eastern.”