‘You were right,’ Prince Aribert whispered to Theodore Racksole; ‘that is the Berlin lady.’ ‘The deuce she is! Has she seen you? Will she know you?’ ‘She would probably know me, but she hasn’t looked up yet.’ ‘Keep behind her, then. I propose to find her a little occupation.’ By dint of a carefully-exercised diplomacy, Racksole manoeuvred himself into a seat opposite to the lady in the red hat. The fame of his success at the other table had followed him, and people regarded him as a serious and formidable player. In the first turn the lady put a thousand francs on double zero; Racksole put a hundred on number nineteen and a thousand on the odd numbers. Nineteen won. Racksole received four thousand four hundred francs. Nine times in succession Racksole backed number nineteen and the odd numbers; nine times the lady backed double zero. Nine times Racksole won and the lady lost. The other players, perceiving that the affair had resolved itself into a duel, stood back for the most part and watched those two. Prince Aribert never stirred from his position behind the great red hat. The game continued. Racksole lost trifles from time to time, but ninety- nine hundredths of the luck was with him. As an English spectator at the table remarked, ‘he couldn’t do wrong.’ When midnight struck the lady in the red hat was reduced to a thousand francs. Then she fell into a winning vein for half an hour, but at one o’clock her resources were exhausted. Of the hundred and sixty thousand francs which she was reputed to have had early in the evening, Racksole held about ninety thousand, and the bank had the rest. It was a calamity for the Juno of the red hat. She jumped up, stamped her foot, and hurried from the room. At a discreet distance Racksole and the Prince pursued her. ‘It might be well to ascertain her movements,’ said Racksole. Outside, in the glare of the great arc lights, and within sound of the surf which beats always at the very foot of the Kursaal, the Juno of the red hat summoned a fiacre and drove rapidly away. Racksole and the Prince took an open carriage and started in pursuit. They had not, however, travelled more than half a mile when Prince Aribert stopped the carriage, and, bidding Racksole get out, paid the driver and dismissed him. ‘I feel sure I know where she is going,’ he explained, ‘and it will be better for us to follow on foot.’ ‘You mean she is making for the scene of last night’s affair?’ said Racksole. ‘Exactly. We shall--what you call, kill two birds with one stone.’