“Nobody, I hope. Still, I cannot bear you to go into a strange hotel hunting this man. It is monstrous; but I am afraid you will not be welcome. Something has just occurred to me; the reason he ran off so suddenly was, he saw you coming. There was a mirror opposite. Ah, we need not have feared he would come back for his winnings. Idiot--villain!” “You stab me to the heart,” said Ina. “He ran away at sight of me? Ah, Jesu, pity me! What have I done to him?” Honest Ashmead had much ado not to blubber at this patient cry of anguish, though the woman herself shed no tear just then. But his judgment was undimmed by passion, and he gave her the benefit. “Take my advice,” said he, “and work it this way. Come in a close carriage to the side street that is nearest the Russie. I'll go in to the hotel and ask for him by his name--what is his name?” “Mr. Edward Severne.” “And say that I was afraid to stake his money, but a friend of mine, that is a bold player, undertook it, and had a great run of luck. 'There is money owing you,' says I, 'and my friend has brought it.' Then he is sure to come. You will have your veil down, I'll open the carriage-door, and tell him to jump in, and, when you have got him you must make him hear reason. I'll give you a good chance--I'll shut the carriage-door.” Ina smiled at his ingenuity--her first smile that day. “You are indeed a friend,” said she. “He fears reproaches, but, when he finds he is welcome, he will stay with me; and he shall have money to play with, and amuse himself how he likes. I kept too tight a rein on him, poor fellow! My good mother taught me prudence.” “Yes, but,” said Ashmead, “you must promise me one thing: not to let him know how much money you have won, and not to go, like a goose, and give him a lot at once. It never pays to part with power in this wicked world. You give him twenty pounds a day to play with whenever he is cleaned out. Then the money will last your time, and he will never leave you.” “Oh, how cold-hearted and wise you are!” said she. “But such a humiliating position for _him!”_ “Don't you be silly. You won't keep him any other way.” “I will be as wise as I can,” sighed Ina. “I have had a bitter lesson. Only bring him to me, and then, who knows? I am a change: my love may revive his, and none of these pitiable precautions may be needed. They would lower us both.” Ashmead groaned aloud. “I see,” said he. “He'll soon clean you out. Ah, well! he can't rob you of your voice, and he can't rob you of your Ashmead.” They soon reached Frankfort. Ashmead put her into a carriage as agreed, and went to the Russie. Ina sat, with her veil down, in the carriage, and waited Ashmead's return with Severne. He was a long time coming. She began to doubt, and then to fear, and wonder why he was so long. At last he came in sight. He was alone. As he drew nearer she saw his face was thoroughly downcast. “My dear friend,” he faltered, “you are out of luck to-day.”