“My friend does not much care for champagne. If I might suggest, he would like some brandy and seltzer.” “Yes, I should,” remarked Peace. “Then we’ll have a pint of sparkling between us,” said Draper. A waiter came forward and attended upon the three gentlemen. “Ah,” remarked the captain, carrying the glass to his eye. “When I was in India this sort of tipple did go down, I can tell you.” “No doubt,” said Kempshead. “‘Give Draper his fizz,’ Lord Gough used to say, ‘and he’ll carry any position.’ And by Jove, sir, he was right. I remember――――” “’Aw, cap’n, ’aw do you do?” said a young man who had just entered the room. “Want to see you, cap’an.” “Oh, do you?” “Ya’as. Most particular business; that fellow’s turning nasty; talks about writing to the guv’nor, and all that sort of thing. He’s a cursed bore.” “I’ll see to that,” returned Draper. “We’ll talk the matter over by and by.” “You must see to it, old fellow. ’Pon my soul you must, and no flies.” “All right; I will.” The languid swell strolled towards the table. “What’s up?” inquired Kempshead. “Oh, the old story――overrunning the constable, that’s all. Wine and women, sir,” said the captain, turning towards Peace, “would double up any man sooner or later.” The captain, having finished his drink, joined the languid swell and Kempshead, and Peace took stock of the company, which, by this time, was far more numerous than when they first entered the precincts of the unhallowed ground. Some of the members were seated at the tables, and others stood behind them. The banker took up his position by the roulette. Before him was a heap of gold, which had been turned out of a cash-box that stood on the table. In one hand he held a stick, about two feet long, across the top of which was fixed a triangular piece of wood. This is technically known as the “rake.” He was not altogether an ordinary-looking individual――such as one meets with in places of public resort. It struck Peace that he was playing a part, and this inference was a tolerably correct one. He was decidedly clever, or he would not have been chosen for the position he occupied. There was an engaging manner about him; he was loquacious, and affected to be more of the pigeon than the hawk. But if anyone arrived at any such conclusion they would make a false estimate of his character. Still, he was eminently qualified for his position. He spoke broken English at the commencement of the evening, but, strange to say, this wore off as the hours flew by. He was a thin sallow-faced man, with a shrewd expression, and captivating manners. He said, addressing those present, “We are all friends here; all know one another, and we are here for amusement, that’s all.” Several of the members assented by nods to this proposition. The croupier seemed satisfied. “He loved play,” he said, and here he shook a pound’s worth of “counters” in his white long-fingered hand. Gambler, indeed! Not he.