“Sir,” said Montalvo, with a sudden sternness, “an officer and a gentleman cannot treat a debt of honour thus; but,” he added with a little laugh, “if another gentleman chances to be good enough to charge a debt of honour for a debt of honour, the affair is different. If, for instance, it would suit you to lend me four hundred florins, which, added to the six hundred which I have lost to-night, would make a thousand in all, well, it will be a convenience to me, though should it be any inconvenience to you, pray do not think of such a thing.” “Certainly,” answered Dirk, “I have won nearly as much as that, and here at my own table. Take them, I beg of you, captain,” and emptying a roll of gold into his hand, he counted it with the skill of a merchant, and held it towards him. Montalvo hesitated. Then he took the money, pouring it carelessly into his pocket. “You have not checked the sum,” said Dirk. “My friend, it is needless,” answered his guest, “your word is rather better than any bond,” and again he yawned, remarking that it was getting late. Dirk waited a few moments, thinking in his coarse, business-like way that the noble Spaniard might wish to say something about a written acknowledgment. As, however, this did not seem to occur to him, and the matter was not one of ordinary affairs, he led the way back to the table, where the other two were now showing their skill in card tricks. A few minutes later the two Spaniards took their departure, leaving Dirk and his cousin Brant alone. “A very successful evening,” said Brant, “and, cousin, you won a great deal.” “Yes,” answered Dirk, “but all the same I am a poorer man than I was yesterday.” Brant laughed. “Did he borrow of you?” he asked. “Well, I thought he would, and what’s more, don’t you count on that money. Montalvo is a good sort of fellow in his own fashion, but he is an extravagant man and a desperate gambler, with a queer history, I fancy—at least, nobody knows much about him, not even his brother officers. If you ask them they shrug their shoulders and say that Spain is a big kettle full of all sorts of fish. One thing I do know, however, that he is over head and ears in debt; indeed, there was trouble about it down at The Hague. So, cousin, don’t you play with him more than you can help, and don’t reckon on that thousand florins to pay your bills with. It is a mystery to me how the man gets on, but I am told that a foolish old vrouw in Amsterdam lent him a lot till she discovered—but there, I don’t talk scandal. And now,” he added, changing his voice, “is this place private?” “Let’s see,” said Dirk, “they have cleared the things away, and the old housekeeper has tidied up my bedroom. Yes, I think so. Nobody ever comes up here after ten o’clock. What is it?”