He stooped and picked it up.

Segrave’s eyes at the moment were fixed on his own card, Lambert’s on the face of his opponent.  No one else in the room was paying any attention to the play of the two young men, for everyone was busy with his own affairs.  Play was general, the hour late.  The wines had been heady, and all tempers were at fever pitch.

No one, therefore, was watching Endicott’s movements at the moment when he ostensibly stooped to pick up the fallen card.

“It is not faced,” he said, “what shall we do?”

“Give it to Master Lambert forsooth,” quoth Mistress Endicott, “’tis unlucky to re-deal ... providing,” she added artfully, “that Master Segrave hath no objection.”

“Nay! nay!” said the latter.  “Begad! why should we stop the game for a trifle?”

Then as Lambert took the card from Endicott and casually glanced at it, Segrave declared: 

“Queen!”

“King!” retorted Lambert, with the same perfect calm.  “King of diamonds ... that card has been persistently faithful to me to-night.”

“The devil himself hath been faithful to you, Master Lambert ...” said Segrave tonelessly, “you have the hell’s own luck....  What do I pay you now?”

“It was double or quits, Master Segrave,” rejoined Lambert, “which brings it up to two hundred pounds....  You will do me the justice to own that I did not seek this game.”

In his heart he had already resolved not to make use of his own winnings.  Somehow as in a flash of intuition he perceived the whole tragedy of dishonor and of ruin which seemed to be writ on his opponent’s face.  He understood that what he had regarded as a toy—­welcome no doubt, but treacherous for all that—­was a matter of life or death—­nay! more mayhap to that pallid youth, with the hectic flush, the unnaturally bright eyes and trembling hands.

There was silence for a while round the green-topped table, whilst thoughts, feelings, presentiments of very varied kinds congregated there.  With Endicott and his wife, and also with Sir Marmaduke, it was acute tension, the awful nerve strain of anticipation.  The seconds for them seemed an eternity, the obsession of waiting was like lead on their brains.

During that moment of acute suspense Richard Lambert was quietly co-ordinating his thoughts.

With that one mental flash-light which had shown up to him the hitherto unsuspected tragedy, the latent excitement in him had vanished.  He saw his own weakness in its true light, despised himself for having yielded, and looked upon the heap of gold before him as so much ill-gotten wealth, which it would be a delight to restore to the hand from whence it came.

He heartily pitied the young man before him, and was forming vague projects of how best to make him understand in private and without humiliation that the money which he had lost would be returned to him in full.  Strangely enough he was still holding in his hand that king of diamonds which Endicott had dealt to him.