ney is my blood:
you see its colour in my face. Here they all come, and I suck their
blood and fling them aside. They win sometimes; but I can wait.
I wait and wait, and they come back here as surely as there is a
destiny. They come back, and I win in the end. I always win in the
end."

She turned her attention to the game for a moment and then went on:--

"It is a rare drink, this yellow blood: and all the sweeter when it
comes from youth. I have had but a drop from you, but I like you
nevertheless. Oh, yes, I can pity, my heart is always full of pity
as I sit here drinking gold. Your friend is a charming boy, but I
like you better: and now you will go. These partings are very cruel,
are they not?"

There was not a trace of mockery in her voice, and her eyes were the
same as ever. I merely looked up in reply, but she divined my
thoughts.

"No, I am not mocking you. I should like you to win--once: I say it,
and am perfectly honest about it. You would be beaten in the end,
but it would please me while it lasted. Has your friend no money?"

"No, this was all we had between us."

"So he came back and got you to play with your money. That was
strange friendship."

"You are wrong," I answered, "he was set against coming; but I
persuaded him--or rather, I insisted. It is all my own fault."

"Well," she said, musingly, "I suppose you must, go; but it is a
pity. You are too handsome a boy to--to do what you will probably
do: but the game does not regard good looks, or it would fare badly
with me. Good-bye."

Still there was no shadow of pity in those unfathomable eyes.
I looked into them for a moment, but their shining jet revealed
nothing below the surface--nothing but inexorable calm.

"Good-bye," I said, and rose to go, for Tom's hand was already on my
shoulder. I dared not look in his face. All hope was gone now, all
wealth, all--Stay! I put my fingers in my waistcoat-pocket and drew
out the Golden Clasp. Worthless to me as any sign of the
hiding-place of the Great Ruby, it might yet be worth something as
metal. I had carried it ever since the day when Uncle Loveday and I
read my father's Journal. But what did it matter now? In a few
hours I should be beyond the hope of treasure. Might I not just as
well fling this accursed clasp after the rest? For aught I knew it
might yet win something back to me--that is, if anyone would accept
it as money. At least I would try.

I sank back int