isper'? Think
of it! You are a noble, and there will be some hang-dogs who might not
fall away from you. Only such would be lef' to you. Do you want it tol'?
And you can keep out of France, monsieur? I have lef' his service, but
I have still the ear of M. de Mirepoix, and he know' I never lie. Not a
gentleman will play you when you come to Paris."

The Englishman's white lip showed a row of scarlet dots upon it. "How
much do you want?" he said.

The room rang with the gay laughter of Beaucaire. "I hol' your note' for
seven-hunder' pound'. You can have them, monsieur. Why does a such great
man come to play M. Beaucaire? Because no one else willin' to play M.
le Duc--he cannot pay. Ha, ha! So he come' to good Monsieur Beaucaire.
Money, ha, ha! What I want with money?"

His Grace of Winterset's features were set awry to a sinister pattern.
He sat glaring at his companion in a snarling silence.

"Money? Pouf!" snapped the little gambler. "No, no, no! It is that M.
le Duc, impoverish', somewhat in a bad odor as he is, yet command the
entree any-where--onless I--Ha, ha! Eh, monsieur?"

"Ha! You dare think to force me--"

M. Beaucaire twirled the tip of his slender mustache around the end
of his white forefinger. Then he said: "Monsieur and me goin' to Lady
Malbourne's ball to-night--M. le Duc and me!"

The Englishman roared, "Curse your impudence!"

"Sit quiet. Oh, yes, that's all; we goin' together."

"No!"

"Certain. I make all my little plan'. 'Tis all arrange'." He paused, and
then said gravely, "You goin' present me to Lady Mary Carlisle."

The other laughed in utter scorn. "Lady Mary Carlisle, of all women
alive, would be the first to prefer the devil to a man of no birth,
barber."

"'Tis all arrange'; have no fear; nobody question monsieur's You goin'
take me to-night--"

"No!"

"Yes. And after--then I have the entree. Is it much I ask? This one
little favor, and I never w'isper, never breathe that--it is to say, I
am always forever silent of monsieur's misfortune."

"You have the entree!" sneered the other. "Go to a lackeys' rout and
dance with the kitchen maids. If I would, I could not present you to
Bath society. I should have cartels from the fathers, brothers, and
lovers of every wench and madam in the place, even I. You would be
thrust from Lady Malbourne's door five minutes after you entered it."

"No, no, no!"

"Half the gentlemen in Bath have been here to play. They would know
you, would