ked
consciousness of the sufferance which permitted his presence: never
addressing his Grace, but audibly whispering to the servant, 'Take this
to the Duke;' or asking the attendant, 'whether his Grace would try the
Hermitage?'

After dinner, with the exception of Cogit, who was busied in compounding
some wonderful liquid for the future refreshment, they sat down to
_ecarte_. Without having exchanged a word upon the subject, there seemed
a general understanding among all the parties that to-night was to be a
pitched battle, and they began at once, briskly. Yet, in spite of their
universal determination, midnight arrived without anything decisive.
Another hour passed over, and then Tom Cogit kept touching the Baron's
elbow and whispering in a voice which everybody could understand. All
this meant that supper was ready. It was brought into the room.

Gaming has one advantage, it gives you an appetite; that is to say,
so long as you have a chance remaining. The Duke had thousands; for
at present his resources were unimpaired, and he was exhausted by
the constant attention and anxiety of five hours. He passed over the
delicacies and went to the side-table, and began cutting himself some
cold roast beef. Tom Cogit ran up, not to his Grace, but to the Baron,
to announce the shocking fact that the Duke of St. James was enduring
great trouble; and then the Baron asked his Grace to permit Mr. Cogit to
serve him. Our hero devoured--we use the word advisedly, as fools say
in the House of Commons--he devoured the roast beef, and rejecting the
Hermitage with disgust, asked for porter.

They set to again fresh as eagles. At six o'clock accounts were so
complicated that they stopped to make up their books. Each played with
his memoranda and pencil at his side. Nothing fatal had yet happened.
The Duke owed Lord Dice about five thousand pounds, and Temple Grace
owed him as many hundreds. Lord Castlefort also was his debtor to the
tune of seven hundred and fifty, and the Baron was in his books, but
slightly. Every half-hour they had a new pack of cards, and threw the
used one on the floor. All this time Tom Cogit did nothing but snuff the
candles, stir the fire, bring them a new pack, and occasionally make a
tumbler for them. At eight o'clock the Duke's situation was worsened.
The run was greatly against him, and perhaps his losses were doubled. He
pulled up again the next hour or two; but nevertheless, at ten o'clock,
owed everyone s