“Won again!” cried out a number of voices; “the thirteenth pass! Who ever saw the like? It is fabulous, monstrous!” Amid the din of incessant commentaries, few of them uttered in the tone of felicitation, a very tall man stretched his arm towards the table, and began to gather in the gold, saying, in a pleasant but hurried voice: “A thousand pardons. I hope you 'll excuse me; would n't inconvenience you for worlds. I think you said”--this was to the banker--“I think you said thirty-eight thousand francs in all; thank you, extremely obliged; a very great run of luck, indeed,--never saw the like before. Would you kindly exchange that note, it is a Frankfort one; quite distressed to give you the trouble; infinitely grateful;” and, bashfully sweeping the glittering coins into his hat, as if ashamed to have interrupted the game, he retired to a side table to count over his winnings. He had just completed a little avenue of gold columns, muttering to himself little congratulations, interspersed with “What fun!” when Beecher, stepping up, accosted him. “The old story, Twining! I never heard nor read of a fellow with such luck as yours!” [Illustration: 311] “Oh, very good luck, capital luck!” cried Twining, rubbing his lean hands, and then slapping them against his leaner legs. “As your Lordship observes, I do occasionally win; not always, not always, but occasionally. Charmed to see you here,--delighted,--what fun! Late,--somewhat late in the season,--but still lovely weather. Your Lordship only just arrived, I suppose?” “I see you don't remember me, Twining,” said Beecher, smiling, and rather amused to mark how completely his good fortune had absorbed his attention. “Impossible, my Lord-!--never forget a face,--never!” “Pardon me if I must correct you this once; but it is quite clear you _have_ forgotten me. Come, for whom do you take me?” “Take you, my Lord,--take you? Quite shocked if I could make a blunder; but really, I feel certain I am speaking with Lord Lackington.” “There, I knew it!” cried Beecher, laughing out “I knew it, though, by Jove! I was not quite prepared to hear that I looked so old. You know he's about eighteen years my senior.” “So he was, my Lord,--so he was,” said Twining, gathering up his gold. “And for a moment, I own, I was disposed to distrust my eyes, not seeing your Lordship in mourning.” “In mourning? and for whom?” “For the late Viscount, your Lordship's brother!” “Lackington! Is Lackington dead?”