"Well, sir, and suppose it is--what the deuce is that to you?" demanded the officer fiercely. "Have I not been here night after night for these six weeks? and have I not lost thousands--thousands? When did I ever get a vein of good luck until last night? But never mind--I'll play on--I'll play till the end: I will either win all back, or lose everything together. And then--in the latter case--" He stopped: he had just lost again. His countenance grew ghastly pale, and he bit his lips convulsively. "Claret--more claret!" he exclaimed, throwing away the Havannah: "that cigar only makes me the more thirsty." And again the play proceeded. "I am really afraid to contemplate that young man's countenance," whispered Markham to Chichester. "Why so?" "I have an idea that if he should prove unsuccessful he will commit suicide. I have a great mind just to mention my fears to these men in the green shades, who seem to be winning all his money." "Pray be quiet. They will only laugh at you." "But the life of a fellow-creature?" "What do they care?" "Do you mean to say they are such wretches--" "I mean that they do not care one fig what may happen so long as they get the money." Markham was struck speechless with horror as he heard this cold-blooded announcement. Chichester had however stated nothing but the truth. The proceedings were now fearfully interesting. The young officer was worked up to a most horrible state of excitement: his losses continued to be unvaried by a single gleam of good fortune. Still he persisted in his ruinous career: note after note was changed. At length his last was melted into gold. He now became absolutely desperate: his countenance was appalling;--the frenzy of gambling and the inflammatory effects of the liquors he had been drinking, rendered his really handsome features positively hideous. Markham had never beheld such a scene before, and felt afraid. His companions surveyed it with remarkable coolness. The play proceeded; and in a few moments the officer's last stake was swept away. Then the croupiers paused, as it were, by common consent; and all eyes were directed towards the object of universal interest. "Well--I said I would play until I won all or lost all," he said; "and I have done so. Waiter, give me another tumbler of claret: it will compose me." He laughed bitterly as he uttered these words. The claret was brought: he drained the tumbler, and threw it upon the table, where it broke into a dozen pieces. "Clear this away, Thomas," said one of the Croupiers, completely unmoved. "Yes, sir;" and the fragments of the tumbler disappeared forthwith. The Bonnets, perceiving the presence of other strangers, were now compelled to withdraw their attention from the ruined gambler, and commence playing. And so the play again proceeded. "Where is my hat, waiter?" demanded the young officer, after a pause, during which he had gazed vacantly upon the game. "In the passage, sir--I believe."