At the Casino presently spins the wheel of fortune--named in very mockery!--and it is there that one may gaze unrebuked into the most alluring eyes, may see the reddest lips and whitest shoulders;--crème de la crème of all in that smaller room upstairs, arranged for those whose jaded appetites demand some extra tickling; where no wager may be laid for less than a hundred francs, and for as much more as you please, monsieur, madame, provided only that you have it with you! Too bad that the immortal soul has no longer a money value, or how many would ornament that crowded table in the course of an evening's play! But there; let a single glimpse of this tawdry, perfumed, fevered hell suffice us, even as it did Archibald Rushford on the first night of his stay at Weet-sur-Mer, and let us go out, as he did, into the pure night, and stand uncovered under the bright stars until the cool breeze from the ocean has washed us clean again, and turning our backs forever upon the Casino and its habitués, retrace our steps along the Digue to the Grand Hôtel Royal. In apartment A de luxe, a man with flushed face and rumpled hair was stamping nervously up and down. It required a second glance to recognise in him that usually well-groomed and self-possessed individual known as Lord Vernon. Two others were watching his movements with scarcely concealed anxiety--Collins leaning against the window with folded arms, Blake seated at a table with an open despatch-box before him. "Hang it all, fellows," he was saying, "don't you see what a pickle it puts me in? I was a fool to fall in with the idea--I was actually silly enough to think it would be fun!" "Of course," put in Collins, in his smoothest tone, "nobody could foresee the presence of this American Diana." Vernon shot him a quick glance. "Be mighty careful what you say, my friend," he warned him, "or I'll chuck the whole thing." "Oh, you can't do that!" protested Blake. "You've got to carry it through! You can't back out now!" "Can't I?" said Vernon, with a grim little laugh. "Don't be too certain! Suppose she finds it out? Pretty figure I'll cut, won't I?" "But how _can_ she find it out? In four or five days, you can tell her the whole story--you'll figure as a sort of hero of romance--" "Yes--penny-dreadful romance--backstairs romance. The more I think of it, the less I like it. Diplomacy or no diplomacy, we're playing Markeld a dirty trick--that's the only expression that describes it. He's a nice fellow and we ought to treat him fairly." Collins shrugged his shoulders as he turned away to the window and lighted a cigarette. "You said something of the same sort yesterday, I believe," he remarked, negligently. "Yes--and I meant it then" as I mean it now. Markeld has the right to expect decent treatment at our hands." "Rather late in the day to take that ground," retorted Collins. "Late or not, I do take it," answered Vernon, pausing an instant in his walk to emphasise the words.