“Then you do not know many of them?” Graham said.

“No,” the Belgian admitted, “he did not know many of them; only those who were staying at Chaudfontaine.  That lady he had just been dancing with, Monsieur had seen in the morning, he believed; she was the Countess G——­, a most distinguished person, with blood-royal in her veins, and came from Brussels.  That pretty girl in blue was Mademoiselle Sophie L——­, who was going to be married next month to one of the largest proprietors in the neighbourhood, the young man standing by her, who was paying her so much attention.  The odd-looking man in shoes and buckles was a rising genius, or thought himself so, a violinist, who came over occasionally from Liege, and hoped to make his fortune some day in London or Paris; and perhaps he will do so,” says the Belgian, “for he has talent.  That little dirty-looking young man with a hooked nose, and the red Turkish slippers, is a Spaniard going through a course of studies at Liege; he is staying in the hotel, and so are the fat old gentleman and lady seated on the sofa; they are Brazilians, and he has been sent over by his Government to purchase arms, I believe.  Those three young ladies in white are sisters, and are come here from Antwerp for the summer; that is their mother talking to Mademoiselle Cecile.  I see no one else at this moment,” he added, looking slowly round the room at the groups of dancers who stood chattering and fanning themselves in the interval between the dances.

“Who is that?” asked Graham, directing his attention to a gentleman who had just appeared, and was standing, leaning in the doorway opposite.

He was a tall handsome man, with light air, and a long fair moustache and beard, perfectly well dressed, and with an air sufficiently distinguished to make him at once conspicuous amongst the Liege clerks and shopkeepers, of whom a large part of the company consisted.

“Ah! precisely, Monsieur, you have fixed upon the most remarkable personage here,” cried his companion, with some excitement; “but is it possible you do not know him?”

“I never saw him before,” answered Graham.  “Is he a celebrity?  A prince, or an ambassador, or anything of that kind?”

“No, nothing of that kind,” said the other laughing, “but a celebrity nevertheless in his way.  That is M. Linders, the great gambler.”

“I never even heard of him,” said the young Englishman; “but then I don’t know much about such people.”

“It is true, I had forgotten that Monsieur is not of this country; but you would hear enough about him were you to stay any time at Wiesbaden, or Homburg, or Spa, or any of those places.  He twice broke the bank at Homburg last year, won two hundred thousand francs at Spa this summer, and lost them again the next week.  He is a most dangerous fellow, and positively dreaded by the proprietors of the tables.”

“What! when he loses two hundred thousand francs?”