A large oval table, covered with green cloth, and lighted by lamps hung from the ceiling, took up most of the space in the room we have attempted to describe. In the centre sat the player who held the bank for the time being. On either side of him, to the right or left, he dealt the cards to his fellow players, who were thus divided into two groups, or "sides," to use the recognized description. In front of him were several packs of cards which, when they had been once used, he threw into a sort of leathern bowl placed on the table. As M. de Morin entered this baccarat room some half-a-score players were commencing another set, and by them his arrival was noisily welcomed. "Holloa! de Morin, come along! Where do you spring from at this hour? A supper party, of course. Fearful depravity! Your family must be communicated with, and asked to interfere. A splendid game, my dear fellow. Not many of us, it is true, but all of the right sort. Come along and take a hand. Sit by me and bring me luck." At such an hour a new-comer was a god-send, and the heartiness of the welcome given to M. de Morin had, in reality, nothing personal about it. The winners, anxious to get away with their winnings, but hesitating to leave lest their departure should be too noticeable, were delighted at the arrival of a recruit ready to take their place, and the losers, on the other hand, interested in prolonging the game so that they might have a chance of recouping themselves, were jubilant over the increase to their number, and with that superstition inherent in all gamblers, trusted that the new arrival would turn the tide of fortune in their favour. M. de Morin, having by a glance satisfied himself that M. Delange, true to his habits, was seated at the baccarat table, secured a supply of counters to the amount of five thousand francs, and, as the bank was up and nobody seemed anxious for it, took it himself. CHAPTER IX. In a very few moments M. de Morin had doubled his bank, which now amounted to ten thousand francs.