way to remind me of
misery?"

Schuyler's blue eyes twinkled cynically, yet not unkindly. "I quite
understand that you can be saved from yourself only by sufficient
generosity, Madame," he said. "The question is, what is sufficient? Too
much sometimes goes to the head. Far be it from me to upset your cup of
happiness. But drink wisely, Madame, in little sips, not in great gulps.
It's better for the health--of all concerned. And the contents of your
bottle will no doubt be just as efficacious another time."

"I know what you mean," she flung at him, viperishly. "You have heard of
Mademoiselle's luck to-night. You think I mean to take advantage of her.
I would not----"

"Of course not, Madame. You, the widow of a naval officer! Have I
accused you of anything?" Schuyler cut her short, with sudden gayety of
manner. "I've heard of Mademoiselle's luck. She was pointed out to me
by a man I know, as I came in, just before joining you. But as I'm aware
that you're a good business woman, my idea is that the advantage you'll
take won't amount to more than 5 per cent. More would be usury, and give
Mademoiselle an unfavourable idea of Monte Carlo manners."

He spoke with deliberation, allotting each word its full value; and
before Madame d'Ambre could leash her rage, he turned to Mary. "Talking
of Monte Carlo manners," he took up the theme again, "you mustn't judge
hastily. There isn't _one_ Monte Carlo. There are many. I don't suppose
you ever saw a cocktail of any sort, much less one called the 'rainbow?'
It's in several different coloured layers of liquid, each distinct from
the other, as far as taste and appearance are concerned, though they
blend together as you drink. It wouldn't do to sip the top layer, and
say what the decoction was like, before you absorbed the whole--with
discrimination. Well, that cocktail's something like Monte Carlo. Only
you begin the cocktail at the top. In the Monte Carlo rainbow you
sometimes begin at the bottom."

He looked steadily at Mary as he finished his simile. Then he lifted the
silver cover of a dish which had just arrived, and gave his whole
attention to a noble Welsh rabbit, an odd dainty for a Riviera
supper--but Ciro prided himself on gratifying any whim of any customer,
at five minutes' notice.

Captain Hannaford had listened in silence, with a light of malicious
amusement in his eyes, which travelled from Madeleine to Mary, from Mary
to Madeleine, and occasionally to Dick Carlet