“They shall sup me, at all events,” said he, as he deposited his hat and cane in the ante-chamber. The rooms were crowded and it was some time before Calvert could approach the play-table, and gain a view of the company. He recognised many of the former visitors. There sat the pretty woman with the blonde ringlets, her diamond-studded fingers carelessly playing with the gold pieces before her; there was the pale student-like boy--he seemed a mere boy--with his dress-cravat disordered, and his hair dishevelled, just as he had seen him last; and there was the old man, whose rouleau had cost Calvert all his winnings. He looked fatigued and exhausted, and seemed as if dropping asleep over his game, and yet the noise was deafening--the clamour of the players, the cries of the croupier, the clink of glasses, and the clink of gold! “Now to test the adage that says when a man is pelted by all other ill luck, that he’ll win at play,” said Calvert, as he threw, without counting them, several Napoleons on the table. His venture was successful, and so was another and another after it. “This is yours, Sir,” said she of the blonde ringlets,’ handing him a hundred franc-piece that had rolled amongst her own. “Was it not to suggest a partnership that it went there?” said he, smiling courteously. “Who knows?” said she, half carelessly, half invitingly. “Let us see what our united fortunes will do. This old man is dozing and does not care for the game. Would you favour me with your place, Sir, and take your rest with so much more comfort, on one of those luxurious sofas yonder?” “No!” said the old man, sternly. “I have as much right to be here as you.” “The legal right I am not going to dispute. It is simply a matter of expediency.” “Do you mean to stake all that gold, Sir?” interrupted the croupier, addressing Calvert, who, during this brief discussion, had suffered his money to remain till it had been doubled twice over. “Ay, let it stay there,” said he, carelessly. “What have you done that makes you so lucky?” whispered the blonde ringlets. “See, you have broken the bank!” “What have I done, do you mean in the way of wickedness?” said he, laughing as the croupiers gathered in a knot to count over the sum to be paid to him. “Nearly everything. I give you leave to question me--so far as your knowledge of the Decalogue goes--what have I not done?” And so they sauntered down the room side by side and sat down on a sofa, chatting and laughing pleasantly together, till the croupier came loaded with gold and notes to pay all Calvert’s winnings. “What was it the old fellow muttered as he passed?” said Calvert; “he spoke in German, and I didn’t understand him.” “It was something about a line in your forehead that will bring you bad luck yet.”