ly, and to argue with
himself on every concession made to a nature at bottom sound and
well-inclined, if not well-balanced; and he was still standing at his
incongruous post, performing its duties with dogged industry, when
something happened which created a commotion within him. The man who had
married Frances Lester came to Lame Gulch and gravitated, as every guest
of the _Mountain Lion_ is sure to do, for the passing moment at least,
to the barroom of the house. The count was a member of a French
syndicate engaged in the erection of a "stamp-mill" at Lame Gulch, and
he was making a flying trip from the East with one of his compatriots,
to take a look at the property. He was a man of medium height whose
nationality and rank were equally unmistakable, and his air of
distinction attracted no little attention upon his entrance. Dirke,
however, did not see him. There was a throng of men about the wheel, and
the "boss" was regarding their movements with the perfunctory attention
which his duties required, when a hand, whiter than the others, was
thrust forward. As it placed a silver dollar on the board a flash of
diamonds caught Dirke's eye, and he recognized the "lucky ring" he had
once worn. It was a closer fit for the little finger of the present
wearer than it had been for his own. There was little need of further
investigation to establish the identity of the new-comer.

The wheel went round and the ball dropped in the stranger's favor. Dirke
glanced at him as he pocketed his winnings. The handsome face
antagonized him even more strongly than it had six months ago.

M. de Lys did not play again immediately. He watched the wheel with a
quiet intentness, as if he were establishing some subtle, occult
influence over it. Then the white hand was quietly extended, and a gold
piece glittered where it had touched. Again the ball declared itself in
favor of the Frenchman.

He played at intervals for more than an hour, with unvarying success.
Eager, inexperienced boys rashly staked and often lost; laborers with
haggard faces saw their earnings swept away; but the count, always calm
and deliberate, won,--won repeatedly, invariably. He rarely risked more
than ten dollars on a single turn; he never placed his money on a
number. He played red or black, and the ball followed his color as the
needle follows the magnet. Dirke began to dread the sight of that white
hand; the gleam of the diamonds seemed to pierce and pain him like sh