Parravicin, meanwhile, picked up the dice-box, and, seating himself, spread a large heap of gold on the table.

“I mentioned your wife, Captain Disbrowe,” he said, addressing the young officer, who anxiously watched his movements, “not with any intention of giving you offence, but to show you that, although you have lost your money, you have still a valuable stake left.”

“I do not understand you, Sir Paul,” returned Disbrowe, with a look of indignant surprise.

“To be plain, then,” replied Parravicin, “I have won from you two hundred pounds—­all you possess.  You are a ruined man, and, as such, will run any hazard to retrieve your losses.  I give you a last chance.  I will stake all my winnings, nay, double the amount, against your wife.  You have a key of the house you inhabit, by which you admit yourself at all hours; so at least the major informs me.  If I win, that key shall be mine.  I will take my chance for the rest.  Do you understand me now?”

“I do,” replied the young man, with concentrated fury.  “I understand that you are a villain.  You have robbed me of my money, and would rob me of my honour.”

“These are harsh words, sir,” replied the knight, calmly; “but let them pass.  We will play first, and fight afterwards.  But you refuse my challenge ?”

“It is false!” replied Disbrowe, fiercely, “I accept it.”  And producing a key, he threw it on the table.  “My life is, in truth, set on the die,” he added, with a desperate look—­“for if I lose, I will not survive my shame.”

“You will not forget our terms,” observed Parravicin.  “I am to be your representative to-night.  You can return home to-morrow.”

“Throw, sir—­throw,” cried the young man, fiercely.

“Pardon, me,” replied the knight; “the first cast is with you.  A single main decides it.”

“Be it so,” returned Disbrowe, seizing the box.  And as he shook the dice with a frenzied air, the major and Lydyard drew near the table, and even Wyvil roused himself to watch the result.

“Twelve!” cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box.  “My honour is saved!  My fortune retrieved—­Huzza!”

“Not so fast,” returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn.  “You were a little too hasty,” he added, uncovering the dice.  “I am twelve, too.  We must throw again.”

“This to decide,” cried the young officer, again rattling the dice.  “Six!”

Parravicin smiled, took the box, and threw ten.

“Perdition!” ejaculated Disbrowe, striking his brow with his clenched hand.  “What devil tempted me to my undoing?—­My wife trusted to this profligate!  Horror!—­it must not be!”

“It is too late to retract,” replied Parravicin, taking up the key, and turning with a triumphant look to his friends.

Disbrowe noticed the smile, and stung beyond endurance, drew his sword, and called to the knight to defend himself.

In an instant, passes were exchanged.  But the conflict was brief.  Fortune, as before, declared herself in favour of Parravicin.  He disarmed his assailant, who rushed out of the room, uttering the wildest ejaculations of rage and despair.