It was not the drink that night, but the cards! The younger player never touched a king. Never had a man such luck before. In so short a space of time as to make the whole affair seem like a conjuring trick, his debt to M. de Fontanes had entered its second century. He appeared to grow bewildered, as, indeed, in the face of such a run of luck an older player might easily have done. He got into such a state that he would have been unable to play the cards even if he had had them, and he never had them. "This--this is awful!" he groaned. "At this rate I shall be able to do nothing even if luck turns. What do you say to doubling the stakes?" Mdlle. de Fontanes was reclining in an easy-chair, ostensibly reading a book; in reality following the game. She sprang to her feet. "I forbid it!" she cried. "Father, I forbid it!" "Do not disturb yourself, my child. I am in all things moderate. The stakes are high enough--for me." Mr Davison's losses increased. He never scored a trick. He was making a record in bad luck. His lips were parched, his hands trembling. "That makes three hundred pounds," said M. de Fontanes, reading his tablets. "Three hundred pounds!" repeated the young man, a little hoarsely, perhaps. "It shall not be!" The interruption came from Mdlle. de Fontanes. She advanced to the table. She laid her hand upon the pack of cards which Mr Davison was about to deal. Her father looked up at her interrogatively. "I say it shall not be. I will not have it, father. Mr Davison, you owe my father nothing; he cheats you all the time." M. de Fontanes rose. His tall figure seemed to tower to an unusual height. "I care not. I tell you, Mr Davison, you owe my father nothing--not a sou--! He cheats you all the time!" Mr Davison staggered to his feet, his eyes opened, as it were, by a sudden flash of lightning. He threw the pack of cards, which he was holding, into the old man's face. There was silence. Then the old man's lips moved. "To-morrow," he muttered, so that the words were scarcely audible, and left the room. When he was gone, the lady addressed the gentleman: "You, too, had better go." Mr Davison went. Mdlle. de Fontanes was left alone. She did not escort him down the stairs. And this time, as he walked through the night to his hotel, it was not a woman's eyes, but a pack of cards which he saw before him in the air. CHAPTER IV The next morning--another morning!--at a very early hour, Mr Davison entered Mr Lintorn's bedroom. The latter gentleman was still engaged in his toilet. "Lintorn, I am an ass!" "The fact," said Mr Lintorn placidly, and as though there had been no unpleasantness of any kind between them, "does not surprise me so much as the statement of the fact." "I've behaved like an ass to you." "You have." Mr Lintorn wiped the soap off his razor; he had a steadier hand than Mr Davison. "I've behaved like an ass all round."