give up banking. That fellow must have a talisman. I
think he has broken more banks than any man living. The best thing he
did of that kind was the roulette story at Paris. You have heard of
that?'

'Was that Lord Dice?'

'Oh yes! he does everything. He must have cleared his hundred thousand
last year. I have suffered a good deal since I have been in England.
Castlefort has pulled in a great deal of my money. I wonder to whom he
will leave his property?'

'You think him rich?'

'Oh! he will cut up large!' said the Baron, elevating his eyebrows. 'A
pleasant man too! I do not know any man that I would sooner play with
than Castlefort; no one who loses his money with better temper.'

'Or wins it,' said his Grace.

'That we all do,' said the Baron, faintly laughing. 'Your Grace has
lost, and you do not seem particularly dull. You will have your revenge.
Those who lose at first are always the children of fortune. I always
dread a man who loses at first. All I beg is, that you will not break my
bank.'

'Why! you see I am not playing now.' 'I am not surprised. There is too
much heat and noise here,' said he. 'We will have a quiet dinner some
day, and play at our ease. Come to-morrow, and I will ask Castlefort
and Dice. I should uncommonly like, _entre nous_, to win some of their
money. I will take care that nobody shall be here whom you would not
like to meet. By-the-bye, whom were you riding with this morning? Fine
woman!'

CHAPTER VIII.

_Birds of Prey_

THE young Duke had accepted the invitation of the Baron de Berg-hem
for to-morrow, and accordingly, himself, Lords Castlefort and Dice,
and Temple Grace assembled in Brunswick Terrace at the usual hour.
The dinner was studiously plain, and very little wine was drunk; yet
everything was perfect. Tom Cogit stepped in to carve in his usual
silent manner. He always came in and went out of a room without anyone
observing him. He winked familiarly to Temple Grace, but scarcely
presumed to bow to the Duke. He was very busy about the wine, and
dressed the wild fowl in a manner quite unparalleled. Tom Cogit was the
man for a sauce for a brown bird. What a mystery he made of it! Cayenne
and Burgundy and limes were ingredients, but there was a magic in the
incantation with which he alone was acquainted. He took particular care
to send a most perfect portion to the young Duke, and he did this, as
he paid all attentions to influential strangers, with the most mar