er."

"What can he be doing here?" said Graham.

"Who knows? Stopping a night or two on his way to Paris, or
Brussels, perhaps, on the chance of finding some one here rich
enough and imprudent enough to make it worth his while. You do
not play, Monsieur?"

"Never in that way," answered the lad, laughing; "I can get
through a game of whist decently enough, but I rarely touch
cards at all."

"Ah, then you are safe: otherwise I would have said, avoid M.
Linders; he has not the best reputation in the world, and he
has a brother-in-law who generally travels with him, and is
even a greater rogue than himself, but not so lucky--so they
say at least."

"Do you know him, this famous gambler? He does not look much
like one," says Graham.

"That is true; but he is a man of good birth and education, I
believe, though he has turned out such a _mauvais sujet_, and it
is part of his _metier_ to get himself up in that style. Yes, I
know him a little, from meeting him here and elsewhere; he is
always going about, sometimes _en prince_, sometimes in a more
humble way--but excuse me, dear Monsieur, Mademoiselle Cecile
has begun to play, and I am engaged to Mademoiselle Sophie for
this dance; she will never forgive me if I make her wait."

The dancers whirled on; the room grew hotter and hotter. M.
Linders had disappeared, and Graham began to think that he too
had had almost enough of it all, and that it would be pleasant
to seek peace and coolness in the deserted moonlit courtyard.
He was watching for a pause in the waltz that would admit of
his crossing the room, when his attention was attracted by the
same little girl he had seen that morning in the garden. She
was still dressed in the shabby old frock and pinafore, and as
she came creeping in, threading her way deftly amongst the
young ladies in starched muslins and gay ribbons who were
fluttering about, she made the effect of a little brown moth
who had strayed into the midst of a swarm of brilliant
butterflies. No one took any notice of her, and she made her
way up to the large round table which had been pushed into the
far corner of the room, and near which Graham was standing.

"Do you want anything?" he asked, as he saw her raise herself
on tiptoe, and stretch forward over the table.

"I want _that_," she said, pointing to a miniature roulette
board, which stood in the middle, beyond the reach of her
small arm.

He gave it to her, and then stood watching to see wh