young man did not even vouchsafe an answer.

"Then you're not going to take advantage of your little warning and
clear out?" Hunterleys continued.

"Don't you think I'm big enough to take care of myself?" Lane asked,
with a little laugh. "Besides, there's an American Consul here, and
plenty of English witnesses who saw the whole thing. Can't think why
they're trying on such a silly game."

"Mr. Grex may have influence," Hunterleys suggested.

"Who the mischief is my prospective father-in-law?" Richard demanded,
almost testily. "There's an atmosphere about that house and the servants
I can't understand a bit."

"You wouldn't," Hunterleys observed drily. "Well, in a day or two I'll
tell you who Mr. Grex is. I'd rather not to-night."

"By the way," Lane continued, "your wife was asking if you were here, a
few minutes ago."

Hunterleys rose quickly to his feet.

"Where is she?"

"She was at her usual place at the top roulette table, but she gave it
up just as I passed, said she was going to walk about," the young man
replied. "I don't think she has left yet."

Hunterleys excused himself hastily. In the little space between the
restaurant and the roulette rooms he came suddenly upon Violet. She was
leaning back in an obscure corner, with her hands clasped helplessly in
her lap before her. She was sitting quite still and his heart sank when
he saw her. The lines under her eyes were unmistakable now; her cheeks,
too, seemed to have grown hollow. Her first look at him almost made him
forget all their differences. There was something piteous in the tremble
of her lips. He drew a chair to her side.

"Richard told me that you wished to speak to me," he began, as lightly
as he could.

"I asked if he had seen you, a few minutes ago," she admitted. "I am
afraid that my interest was rather mercenary."

"You want to borrow some money?" he enquired, taking out his
pocket-book.

She looked at it, and though her eyes at first were listless, they still
seemed fascinated.

"I don't think I can play any more to-night," she sighed.

"You have been losing?"

"Yes!"

"Come and have something," he invited. "You look tired."

She rose willingly enough. They passed out, side by side, into the
little bar.

"Some champagne?" he suggested.

She shook her head quickly. The memory of the champagne at dinner-time
came back to her with a sudden sickening insistence. She thought of the
loan, she thought of Draconmeyer with a n