“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.