As it fell out, however, he was compelled to go alone, Luigi, in the course of the afternoon, being seized with one of the violent sick headaches to which he had been subject at times ever since he could remember. His uncle left him prostrate on a couch in a darkened room. But for once the usually astute and suspicious Captain had been thoroughly hoodwinked. Scarcely had he disappeared before Luigi sat up, chuckling softly to himself. He was bent on a little adventure of his own in which his uncle should have neither part nor parcel. The demon of gambling had got him in his grip, and Luigi lent a willing ear to his enticements. He had won fourteen pounds last night, why should he not win forty, eighty, a hundred to-night? He could see no reason whatever why he should not. In the big solid-leather portmanteau which held both his uncle’s clothes and his own was stored away a little roll of bank-notes of the value of one hundred pounds, the same being part of the proceeds of Sir Gilbert’s cheque. Luigi’s intention was to abstract a couple or three five-pound notes and with them, in addition to his overnight winnings, to try his luck at the _cercle_ for the second time. He had opened the portmanteau and the roll of notes was in his fingers, when he was startled by the sound of voices, one of which he took to be his uncle’s, in the corridor outside. In an instant he had shut down the lid of the portmanteau and crammed, the notes into his pocket. The alarm proved to be a false one, but Luigi, having taken possession of the whole of the notes, saw no reason why he should put any of them back. After all, they were his property and not his uncle’s; besides, although he might take them with him to the _cercle_, he was fully determined not to risk more than the sum he had originally fixed on: it was a determination from which nothing should move him. How his uncle would open his eyes in the morning at beholding his nephew’s overnight winnings scattered carelessly on the dressing-table! Captain Verinder opened his eyes very wide indeed when, on entering his nephew’s room some time after midnight, he found Luigi pacing it, wild-eyed, haggard, with clenched hands, tumbled hair and rumpled clothes, like a man half distraught. He had come back from the gaming table penniless. In the excitement of play, all his fine resolutions had vanished like chaff before the wind. He had gone on losing madly, recklessly, till not only had the hundred pounds gone, but his previous night’s winnings and whatever else he had had in his purse to boot. Well might the Captain when, bit by bit, the truth had been dragged out, sit down and stare at him in blank dismay. No words at his command could have expressed more than a tithe of what he felt. CHAPTER XXXIV. A DESPERATE RESOLVE