d the girl, with a dark, ironical smile.

"And that his luck is phenomenal," the old lady went on, without
appearing to notice the interruption. "Very well. Your uncle, the old
fool--excuse me, my dear--has done nothing but gamble all his life. The
doctor says that he believes John has never been known to win more than
about once in a month's play, no matter with whom he plays. You know--we
all know--that for years he has been in the habit of raising loans from
this monumental cuttle-fish to settle his losses. And you can trust that
individual to see that these loans are well secured. John Allandale is
reputed very rich, but the doctor assures me that were Lablache to
foreclose his mortgages a very, very big slice of your uncle's worldly
goods would be taken to meet his debts.

"Now comes the last stage of the affair," she went on, with a sage
little shake of the head. "How long ago is it since Lablache proposed to
you? But there, you need not tell me. It was a little less than a year
ago--wasn't it?"

Her companion nodded her head. She wondered how "Aunt" Margaret had
guessed it. She had never told a soul herself. The shrewd little old
lady was filling her with wonder. The careful manner in which she had
pieced facts together and argued them out with herself revealed to her
a cleverness and observation she would never, in spite of the kindly
soul's counsels, have given her credit for.

"Yes, I knew I was right," said Mrs. Abbot, complacently. "Just about
the time when Lablache began seriously to play poker--about the time
when his phenomenal luck set in, to the detriment of your uncle. Yes, I
am well posted," as the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. "The
doctor tells me a great deal--especially about your uncle, dear. I
always like to know what is going on. And now to bring my long
explanation to an end. Don't you see how Lablache intends to marry you?
Your uncle's losses this winter have been so terribly heavy--and all to
Lablache. Lablache holds the whip hand of him. A request from Lablache
becomes a command--or the crash."

"But how about the Doc," asked Jacky, quickly. "He plays with
them--mostly?"

Mrs. Abbot shrugged her shoulders.

"The doctor can take care of himself. He's cautious, and
besides--Lablache has no wish to win his money."

"But surely he must lose? Say, auntie, dear, it's not possible to play
against Lablache's luck without losing--some."

"Well, dear, I can't say I know much of the