Hench looked displeased. "You shouldn't encourage her love of gambling," he said strongly. "I'm not a saint, but it doesn't seem right for a well-to-do man such as you are to win Madame Alpenny's jewellery." "Why not? She has the same chance of winning my money. We play quite fairly, you know, Hench, and one must pass the time somehow. But I quite understand why you don't wish me to loot the lady." "Oh, do you." Hench grew red and smoothed his beard. "Well?" "I have listened and looked and questioned and considered while I have been here," explained the Nut coolly, "and by doing so I have found out your romance." "My romance!"--the big man bit his nether lip and thought that it was like the cheek of this finicky little devil to meddle with what did not in any way concern him--"what the deuce are you talking about?" "About your romance; about Bracken's romance; and about Mademoiselle Zara, who is the subject of both romances." "You are talking through your hat, Spruce." "By no means. I can give you chapter and verse for my surmises. Zara Alpenny is a handsome gipsy, although to my fancy she is a trifle gaunt and fierce, as any one can see. Her mother being poor, intends that her daughter shall be the wife of a wealthy man. You have fallen in love with this divinity of the Bijou Music-hall, and so has that bounder of a violinist. Madame Alpenny, knowing your circumstances, will have nothing to do with either of you as sons-in-law, preferring yours truly." "You!" Hench sat up and stared indignantly at the smooth speaker. "Now what the dickens do you mean by that rubbish?" "What I say. You understand King's English, I take it. But you need have no fear so far as I am concerned. Mademoiselle Zara is not my sort, and I have no intention of forwarding Madame Alpenny's matrimonial aims. But you----" Hench rose, looking considerably irritated. "I wish you would mind your own business," he said sharply. "You have found a mare's nest." "Oh, well," observed Spruce lazily, "if that is the case I may as well change my mind and become a suitor for Zara's hand." "You shall do nothing of the sort." "Why not? You don't love her, if I am to credit your mare's nest parable." Hench found that the Nut was too sharp for him and sat down with a defeated air. "I admire the girl, rather than love her," he admitted reluctantly. "She's a good sort and would make a good wife--something of a comrade, you know." "I don't think that fierce-eyed girl would care for a marriage of the comrade sort, Hench. She wants love of the most pronounced and romantic kind, and that kind she is getting from Bracken. He worships her, and will carry off the prize if all you can give is cautious admiration." "It's none of your business, anyway," fumed the big man. "No. I admit that! But suppose I make it my business by asking Madame Alpenny for her daughter's hand. She believes me to be rich and----" "And you are not. Come, be honest."