hter
Tyrrwhit. Vy, Captain Scarborough, the little game you wash playing
there, which wash a very pretty little game, is as nothing to my game
wish you. When you see the money down, on the table there, it seems to
be mush because the gold glitters, but it is as noting to my little
game, where the gold does not glitter, because it is pen and ink. A pen
and ink soon writes ten thousand pounds. But you think mush of it when
you win two hundred pounds at roulette."

"I think nothing of it," said our friend Captain Scarborough.

"And it goes into your pocket to give champagne to the ladies, instead
of paying your debts to the poor fellows who have supplied you for so
long with all de money."

All this occurred in the gambling-house at a distance from the table,
but within hearing of that attendant who still followed the player.
These moments were moments of misery to the captain in spite of the
bank-notes for six hundred napoleons which were still in his breast
coat-pocket. And they were not made lighter by the fact that all the
words spoken by the Jew were overheard by the man who was supposed to be
there in the capacity of his servant. But the man, as it seemed, had a
mission to fulfil, and was the captain's master as well as servant. "Mr.
Hart," said Captain Scarborough, repressing the loudness of his words as
far as his rage would admit him, but still speaking so as to attract the
attention of some of those round him, "I do not know what good you
propose to yourself by following me in this manner. You have my bonds,
which are not even payable till my father's death."

"Ah, there you are very much mistaken."

"And are then only payable out of the property to which I believed
myself to be heir when the money was borrowed."

"You are still de heir--de heir to Tretton. There is not a shadow of a
doubt as to that."

"I hope when the time comes," said the captain, "you'll be able to prove
your words."

"Of course we shall prove dem. Why not? Your father and your brother are
very clever shentlemen, I think, but they will not be more clever than
Mishter Samuel Hart. Mr. Tyrrwhit also is a clever man. Perhaps he
understands your father's way of doing business. Perhaps it is all right
with Mr. Tyrrwhit. It shall be all right with me too;--I swear it. When
will you come back to London, Captain Scarborough?"

Then there came an angry dispute in the gambling-room, during which Mr.
Hart by no means strove to repress his voi