one of my last," said Sir Michael, as he followed suit.
"And what is your stake, Master Lambert?" queried Segrave.
"Twenty pounds I see," replied the young man, as with a careless hand he counted over the gold which lay pell-mell on his card; "I staked on the king without counting."
Segrave in his turn pushed some gold towards him. The pile in front of him was not half the size it had been before this stranger from the country had sat down to play. He tried to remain master of himself, not to show before these egotistical, careless cavaliers all the agony of mind which he now endured and which had turned to positive physical torture.
The ghost of stolen money, of exposure, of pillory and punishment which had so perceptibly paled as he saw the chance of replacing by his unexpected winnings that which he had purloined, once more rose to confront him. Again he saw before him the irascible employer, pointing with relentless finger at the deficiency in the accounts, again he saw his weeping mother, his stern father, — the disgrace, the irretrievable past.
"You are not leaving off playing, Sir Michael?" he asked anxiously, as the latter having handed him over a golden guinea, rose from the table and without glancing at his late partners in the game, turned his back on them all.
"Par Dieu!" he retorted, speaking roughly, and none too civilly over his shoulder, "my pockets are empty. . . . Like Master Lambert here," he added with an unmistakable sneer, "I find no pleasure in this sort of game!"
"What do you mean?" queried Segrave hotly.
"Oh, nothing," rejoined the other dryly, "you need not heed my remark. Are you not losing, too?"
"What does he mean?" said Lambert with a puzzled frown, instinctively turning to his employer.
"Naught! naught! my good Lambert," replied Sir Marmaduke, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Sir Michael Isherwood hath lost more than he can afford and is somewhat choleric of temper, that is all."
"And in a little quiet game, my good young friend," added Endicott, also in a whisper, "'tis wisest to take no heed of a loser's vapors."
"I pay ace only!" quoth Segrave triumphantly, who in the meanwhile had continued the game.
Lord Walterton swore a loud and prolonged oath. He had staked five guineas on a king and had lost.
"Ventre-saint-gris, and likewise par le sang-bleu!" he said, "the first time I have had a king! Segrave, ye must leave me these few little yellow toys, else I cannot pay for my lodgings to-night. . . . I'll give you a bill . . . but I've had enough of this, by Gad!"
And somewhat sobered, though still unsteady, he rose from the table.
"Surely, my lord, you are not leaving off, too?" asked Segrave.
"Nay! . . . how can I continue?" He turned his breeches pockets ostentatiously inside out. "Behold, friend, these two beautiful and innocent little dears!"
"You can give me more bills . . ." urged Segrave, "and you lose . . . you may not lose after this . . . 'tis lucky to play on credit . . . and . . . and your bills are always met, my lord . . ."
He spoke with feverish volubility, though his throat was parched and every word he uttered caused him pain. But he was determined that the game should proceed.
He had won a little of his own back again the last few rounds. Certainly his luck would turn once more. His luck must turn once more, or else . . .
"Nay! nay! I've had enough," said Lord Walterton, nodding a heavy head up and down, "there are too many of my bills about as it is. . . . I've had enough."
"Methinks, of a truth," said Lambert decisively, "that the game has indeed lasted long enough. . . . And if some other gentleman would but take my place . . ."
He made a movement as if to rise from the table, but was checked by a harsh laugh and a peremptory word from Segrave.
"Impossible," said the latter, "you, Master Lambert, cannot leave off in any case. . . . My lord . . . another hand . . ." he urged again.
"Nay! nay! my dear Segrave," replied Lord Walterton, shaking himself like a sleepy dog, "the game hath ceased to have any pleasure for me, as our young friend here hath remarked. . . . I wish you good luck . . . and good-night."
Whereupon he turned on his heel and straddled away to another corner of the room, away from the temptation of that green-covered table.
"We two then, Master Lambert," said Segrave with ever-growing excitement, "what say you? Double or quits?"
And he pointed, with that same febrile movement of his, to the heap of gold standing on the table beside Lambert.
"As you please," replied the latter quietly, as he pushed the entire pile forward.
Segrave dealt, then turned up his card.
"Ten!" he said curtly.
"Mine is a knave," rejoined Lambert.
"How do we stand?" queried the other, as with a rapid gesture he passed a trembling hand over his burning forehead.
"Methinks you owe me a hundred pounds," replied Richard, who seemed strangely calm in the very midst of this inexplicable and volcanic turmoil which he felt was seething all round him. He had won a hundred pounds — a fortune in those days for a country lad like himself; but for the moment the thought of what that hundred pounds would mean to him and to his brother Adam, was lost in the whirl of excitement which had risen to his head like wine.
He had steadily refused the glasses of muscadel or sack which Mistress Endicott had insinuatingly and persistently been offering him, ever since he began to play; yet he felt intoxicated, with strange currents of fire which seemed to run through his veins.
The subtle poison had done its work. Any remorse which he may have felt at first, for thus acting against his own will and better judgment, and for yielding like a weakling to persuasion, which had no moral rectitude for basis, was momentarily smothered by the almost childish delight of winning, of seeing the pile of gold growing in front of him. He had never handled money before; it was like a fascinating yet insidious toy which he could not help but finger.
"Are you not playing rather high, gentlemen?" came in dulcet tones from Mistress Endicott; "I do not allow high play in my house. Master Lambert, I would fain ask you to cease."
"I am more than ready, madam," said Richard with alacrity.
"Nay! but I am not ready," interposed Segrave vehemently. "Nay! nay!" he repeated with feverish insistence, "Master Lambert cannot cease playing now. He is bound in honor to give me a chance for revenge. . . . Double or quits, Master Lambert! . . . Double or quits?"
"As you please," quoth Lambert imperturbably.
"Ye cannot cut to each other," here interposed Endicott didactically. "The rules of primero moreover demand that if there are but two players, a third and disinterested party shall deal the cards."
"Then will you cut and deal, Master Endicott," said Segrave impatiently; "I care not so long as I can break Master Lambert's luck and redeem mine own. . . . Double or quits, Master Lambert. . . . Double or quits. . . . I shall either
