“What is the arrangement?”

“Persuade young Lambert to take a hand at primero ...  Endicott will do the rest.”

“Who is in the know?” he queried, after a slight pause, during which he watched his unsuspecting victim with a deep frown of impatience and of hate.

“Only the Endicotts,” she explained.  “But do you think that he will play?” she added, casting an anxious look on her brother-in-law’s face.

He nodded affirmatively.

“Yes!” he said curtly.  “I can arrange that, as soon as you are ready.”

She turned from him and walked to the center table.  She watched the game for a while, noting that young Segrave was still the winner, and that Lord Walterton was very flushed and excited.

Then she caught Endicott’s eye, and immediately lowered her lashes twice in succession.

“Ventre-saint-gris!” swore Endicott with an unmistakable British accent in the French expletive, “but I’ll play no more....  The bank is broken ... and I have lost too much money.  Mr. Segrave there has nearly cleaned me out and still I cannot break his luck.”

He rose abruptly from his chair, even as Mistress de Chavasse quietly walked away from the table.

But Lord Walterton placed a detaining, though very trembling hand, on the cinnamon-colored sleeve.

“Nay! parbleu! ye cannot go like this ... good Master Endicott ...” he said, speaking very thickly, “I want another round or two ... ’pon my honor I do ...  I haven’t lost nearly all I meant to lose.”

“Ye cannot stop play so abruptly, master,” said Segrave, whose eyes shone with an unnatural glitter, and whose cheeks were covered with a hectic flush, “ye cannot leave us all in the lurch.”

“Nay, I doubt not, my young friend,” quoth Endicott gruffly, “that you would wish to play all night....  You have won all my money and Lord Walterton’s, too.”

“And most of mine,” added Sir Michael Isherwood ruefully.

“Why should not Master Segrave take the bank,” here came in shrill accents from Mistress Endicott, who throughout her conversation with Lambert had kept a constant eye on what went on around her husband’s table.  “He seems the only moneyed man amongst you all,” she added with a laugh, which grated most unpleasantly on Richard’s ear.

“I will gladly take the bank,” said Segrave eagerly.

“Pardi!  I care not who hath the bank,” quoth Lord Walterton, with the slow emphasis of the inebriated.  “My system takes time to work....  And I stand to lose a good deal unless ... hic ... unless I win!”

“You are not where you were, when you began,” commented Sir Michael grimly.

“By Gad, no! ... hic ... but ’tis no matter....  Give me time!”

“Methought I saw Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse just now,” said Endicott, looking about him.  “Ah! and here comes our worthy baronet,” he added cheerily as Sir Marmaduke’s closely cropped head—­very noticeable in the crowd of periwigs—­emerged from amidst the group that clustered round Mistress Endicott.  “A hand at primero, sir?”