I don't quite know what picture of the event Myra and I had conjured up in our minds, but I fancy it was one something like this. At the entrance into the rooms of such a large and obviously distinguished party there would be a slight sensation among the crowd, and way would be made for us at the most important table. It would then leak out that Chevalier Simpson--the tall poetical-looking gentleman in the middle, my dear--had brought with him no less a sum than thirty francs with which to break the bank, and that he proposed to do this in one daring _coup_. At this news the players at the other tables would hastily leave their winnings (or losings) and crowd round us. Chevalier Simpson, pale but controlled, would then place his money on seventeen--"_dix-sept_," he would say to the croupier to make it quite clear--and the ball would be spun. As it slowed down the tension in the crowd would increase. "_Mon Dieu_!" a woman would cry in a shrill voice; there, would be guttural exclamations from Germans; at the edge of the crowd strong men would swoon. At last a sudden shriek ... and the croupier's voice, trembling for the first time for thirty years, "_Dix-sept!_" Then gold and notes would be pushed at the Chevalier. He would stuff his pockets with them; he would fill his hat with them; we others, we would stuff our pockets too. The bank would send out for more money. There would be loud cheers from all the company (with the exception of one man, who had put five francs on sixteen and had shot himself) and we should be carried--that is to say, we four men--shoulder high to the door, while by the deserted table Myra and Dahlia clung to each other weeping tears of happiness ... Something like that. What happened was different. As far as I could follow, it was this. Over the heads of an enormous, badly-dressed and utterly indifferent crowd Simpson handed his thirty francs to the croupier. "_Dix-sept_," he said. The croupier with his rake pushed the money on to seventeen. Another croupier with his rake pulled it off again ... and stuck to it. The day's fun was over. * * * * * "What _did_ win?" asked Myra some minutes later, when the fact that we should never see our money again had been brought home to her. "Zero," said Archie. I sighed heavily. "My usual score," I said, "not my highest." A. A. M. * * * * * THE SUPER-STORES. (_At a well-known Universal Emporium several Champions have been engaged to demonstrate the art of golf in the Games Department._) [Illustration: SIR GREGORY PILLKINGTON M.D., F.R.C.P., ETC., ETC., WILL BE IN ATTENDANCE IN THE DRUG DEPARTMENT, WHERE ALL CUSTOMERS MAY EXHIBIT THEIR TONGUES FREE OF CHARGE.] [Illustration: IN THE ART DEPARTMENT, SIR WILLIAM DAUBER, R.A., WILL GIVE A DEMONSTRATION ON THE LAYING ON OF COLOUR TO EVERY PURCHASER OF A SIXPENNY BOX OF PAINTS.]