frown upon her forehead.

"I am still a little down, starting from where I had the ten mille," she
sighed. "I thought--"

She stopped short. There was a curious change in her face. Her eyes were
fixed upon some person approaching. Draconmeyer turned quickly in his
chair. Almost as he did so, Hunterleys paused before their table. Violet
looked up at him with quivering lips. For a moment it seemed as though
she were stepping out of her sordid surroundings.

"Henry!" she exclaimed. "Did you come to look for me? Did you know that
we were here?"

"How should I?" he answered calmly. "I was strolling around with David
Briston. We are at the Opera."

"At the Opera," she repeated.

"My little protegee, Felicia Roche, is singing," he went on, "in _Aida_.
If she does as well in the next act as she has done in this, her future
is made."

He was on the point of adding the news of Felicia's engagement to the
young man who had momentarily deserted him. Some evil chance changed his
intention.

"Why do you call her your little protegee?" she demanded.

"It isn't quite correct, is it?" he answered, a little absently. "There
are three or four of us who are doing what we can to look after her. Her
father was a prominent member of the Wigwam Club. The girl won the
musical scholarship we have there. She has more than repaid us for our
trouble, I am glad to say."

"I have no doubt that she has," Violet replied, lifting her eyes.

There was a moment's silence. The significance of her words was entirely
lost upon Hunterleys.

"Isn't this rather a new departure of yours?" he asked, glancing
disdainfully towards Draconmeyer. "I thought that you so much preferred
to play at the Club."

"So I do," she assented, "but I was just beginning to win when the Club
closed at eight o'clock, and so we came on here."

"Your good fortune continues, I hope?"

"It varies," she answered hurriedly, "but it will come, I am sure. I
have been very near a big win more than once."

He seemed on the point of departure. She leaned a little forward.

"You had my note, Henry?"

Her tone was almost beseeching. Draconmeyer, who was listening with
stony face, shivered imperceptibly.

"Thank you, yes," Hunterleys replied, frowning slightly. "I am sorry,
but I am not at liberty to do what you suggest just at present. I wish
you good fortune."

He turned around and walked back to the other end of the room, where
Briston was standing at the bar. She lo