"It is certainly not kind of you to invite my father to play like this," she exclaimed, turning upon him resentfully. "I have already told you that I do not wish him to play." "I have not invited him," Zertho declared with a laugh. "If he chooses to follow the run I cannot well prevent it." At that moment Brooker, who still kept his keen eyes riveted upon the table, heard the croupier's voice, hesitated a moment, and taking two rapid steps forward tossed upon the red diamond the four notes he had just picked up. Whirr-r! click! went the ball again, and the croupier's announcement a few seconds later told him that he had won four hundred francs. Liane, annoyed, flushed slightly, compressed her lips and turning from them with a gesture of anger walked straight out from the great gilded salons so hateful to her. As she passed, many turned and remarked how beautiful she was. She knew that the mania which had caused her father's downfall had returned, that this double success would cause him to plunge still more deeply. Zertho smiled contemptuously at her fears, and neither men went after her to induce her to return. The Prince, on the contrary, shrugged his shoulders, and laughing said,-- "She's annoyed. She'll return in a minute or two, when she knows you've won. Now that she's gone I'm going to risk a little myself." At that moment two players rose from their chairs, and the pair so well-known to the croupiers and attendants "marked" their places. The man sitting before the red and black disc which slowly revolved while the players laid down their coin, gave both men a little nod of recognition. "_Messieurs, faites vos jeux_," cried the croupier. "What's your fancy? The impair?" Zertho inquired of his companion in the same tone as was his wont long ago. "Of course," the other replied, selecting at the same moment three notes from those in his hand, and tossing them over upon the marked square indicated. Once more sounded the monotonous cry, "_Rien ne va plus_!" The croupier sat immovable as one joyless, hopeless, and impassionate, a veritable machine raking in and paying out gold and silver and notes without caring one jot whether the bank gained or lost. The ball was an instant later sent on its way, and Brooker watching, saw it suddenly spring about and fall. Again he won.