show you
that, although you have lost your money, you have still a valuable stake
left.'

'I do not understand you, Sir Paul,' returned Disbrowe, with a look of
indignant surprise.

'To be plain, then,' replied Parravicin, 'I have won from you two
hundred pounds--all you possess. You are a ruined man, and as such, will
run any hazard to retrieve your losses. I give you a last chance. I will
stake all my winnings--nay, double the amount--against your wife. You
have a key of the house you inhabit, by which you admit yourself at all
hours; so at least I am informed. If I win, that key shall be mine. I
will take my chance of the rest. Do you understand me now?'

'I do,' replied the young man, with concentrated fury. 'I understand
that you are a villain. You have robbed me of my money, and would rob me
of my honour.'

'These are harsh words, sir,' replied the knight calmly; 'but let
them pass. We will play first, and fight afterwards. But you refuse my
challenge?'

'It is false!' replied Disbrowe, fiercely, 'I accept it.' And producing
a key, he threw it on the table. 'My life is, in truth, set on the die,'
he added, with a desperate look; 'for if I lose, I will not survive my
shame.'

'You will not forget our terms,' observed Parravicin. 'I am to be your
representative to-night. You can return home to-morrow.'

'Throw, sir,--throw,' cried the young man, fiercely.

'Pardon me,' replied the knight; 'the first cast is with you. A single
main decides it.'

'Be it so,' returned Disbrowe, seizing the bow. And as he shook the dice
with a frenzied air, the bystanders drew near the table to watch the
result.

'Twelve!' cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box. 'My honour is saved! My
fortune retrieved--Huzza!'

'Not so fast,' returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn. 'You
were a little hasty,' he added, uncovering the dice. 'I am twelve too.
We must throw again.'

'This is to decide,' cried the young officer, rattling the dice,--'Six!'

Parravicin smiled, took the box, and threw _TEN_.

'Perdition!' ejaculated Disbrowe, striking his brow with his clenched
hand. 'What devil tempted me to my undoing?... My wife trusted to this
profligate!... Horror! It must not be!'

'It is too late to retract,' replied Parravicin, taking up the key, and
turning with a triumphant look to his friends.

Disbrowe noticed the smile, and, stung beyond endurance, drew his sword,
and called to the knight to defend himself. In an in