"If I were you I should back him for all he is worth," Lopez said, as he thoughtfully watched the rolling marble on the roulette-table. "I know that you are in the opposite camp, and that you have elected to throw your lot in with what is called the progressives in Koordstan. But the man you want to make Shan is a friend of Russia, and the English Government may not stand it. Besides, the present Shan is no fool, and I happen to know that he is well advised here. If you can, get a grip on him." "Oh, I’ve got the grip fast enough!" Hamid Khan said moodily. "Perhaps I should like to do what you suggest, but I’m too deeply plunged to the other side now. I am forcing the old man’s hand now; I came over on purpose. The Blue Stone——" Lopez suppressed a little cry. He affected not to be listening. "If you will favour me with your attention," Hamid Khan said stiffly. "My dear fellow, I beg your pardon. But red has turned up ten times in succession, and I was counting up the theory of chance. Do you mean to say the Shan had sold the Blue Stone?" It was cleverly done, and the shot was an admirable one. Hamid Khan fell into the trap at once. "The Shan’s not quite such a fool as that," he said. "If he did that and the fact became public property he wouldn’t be on the throne for a week. But I happen to know that he hasn’t got the stone at present, and I’m going to work that fact." Lopez listened to all that Hamid had to say; indeed, he went further, and made several suggestions as if he had been advising a friend in the most disinterested manner possible. At the same time, he had learnt a valuable piece of news, and he was trying to find some way to use it to the best advantage. There came a gap in the table presently and Lopez changed a handful of notes into counters. These notes were all the money in his possession, but the fact troubled Lopez not at all. Once the gambling fever possessed him, common sense went to the winds. He played on for some time with varying success, everything else forgotten. He was fairly temperate at first, but the fever began to turn in his veins, and he started gambling in earnest. Surely it was time for black to have a turn after so marvellous a run of the red. But according to scientific authorities, this is nothing to go by, and the chances are quite equal even after a record run, and the end of an hour saw the last of Lopez’s gold-lettered counters swept with a careless movement into the clutches of the bank, and he rose with a sigh. The proprietor of the club, a tall man, with the bland air of a cabinet minister, came up to him and proffered his condolences. Lopez lighted a cigarette with a steady hand. "I thought you were playing very well," the proprietor said.