" and Mrs. Ernstein, though rich, was a coward when
it came to risking her money at the tables. Others in the house made
themselves as irritating to Lord Dauntrey in their selfish obstinacy as
Dodo; and all his hopes centred upon Mary. She was a lamb whom his wife
had cleverly caught in the bushes, a lamb with golden fleece. He would
have liked above all things to help her win this first night; but
curiously enough she lost monotonously, no matter what game she tried,
unless Prince Giovanni Della Robbia pushed money on to some chance where
her stake happened to lie. Then and then only she won; so that if she
inclined to superstition (as did most women at the tables) she would
believe that not Lord Dauntrey but the Roman "brought her luck."
Nevertheless she seemed vexed rather than pleased when the Prince (whom
Dauntrey knew by sight and name) fixed upon a chance where she had
staked. Presently, though she won four times running when this occurred,
she kept back her money until the last, staking only just before the
croupier's "Rien ne va plus," to prevent Della Robbia from following her
lead. At last, she got up impatiently. "I am tired!" she said, in a
voice that trembled slightly. "I hardly know what I'm doing."

Mary did not pick up the money--comparatively little--which was the
remnant of her losses, and Dauntrey asked sympathetically if she would
like him to play for her, according to the plan they had begun to follow
out.

"Yes, if you please," she replied, seeming to attach no importance to
her answer or to the small pile of gold and notes, all that remained of
a hundred thousand francs with which she had begun the evening.

Without another glance at the table, or a flicker of the lashes at
Vanno, she turned away; and after a whispered word or two in Lord
Dauntrey's ear, Eve went with her, in the direction of the Salle
Schmidt.

Vanno had an immediate impulse to rise, but common sense forbade. Mary
had so unmistakably shown her dislike of his presence, and the
association of his play with hers, that it was impossible for him to
follow her. Though he detested Lady Dauntrey, in his heart he preferred
her to a man as a companion for Mary, even a man like Dick Carleton;
and for the moment the jealousy he could not control was at rest. Seeing
that Lord Dauntrey's weary eyes were fixed upon him, he continued to
play, as if he had not noticed Mary's going. By and by the game began to
absorb him in a way he would not