“Good-bye,” I said, and rose to go, for Tom’s hand was already on my shoulder.  I dared not look in his face.  All hope was gone now, all wealth, all—­Stay!  I put my fingers in my waistcoat-pocket and drew out the Golden Clasp.  Worthless to me as any sign of the hiding-place of the Great Ruby, it might yet be worth something as metal.  I had carried it ever since the day when Uncle Loveday and I read my father’s Journal.  But what did it matter now?  In a few hours I should be beyond the hope of treasure.  Might I not just as well fling this accursed clasp after the rest?  For aught I knew it might yet win something back to me—­that is, if anyone would accept it as money.  At least I would try.

I sank back into my chair again.  The woman turned her eyes upon me carelessly, and said—­

“What, back again so soon?”

“Yes,” said I, somewhat taken aback by her coldness, “if you will give me another chance.”

“I give nothing, least of all chance,” she replied.

“Well, can you tell me if this is worth anything?”

As I said this I held out the clasp, which flashed brightly as it caught the rays of the large candelabrum overhead.  She turned her eyes upon it, and as she did so, for the first time I fancied I caught a gleam of interest within them.  It was but a gleam, however, and died out instantly as she said—­

“Let me look at it.”

I handed it to her.  She bent over it for a moment, then turned to me and asked—­

“Is this all of it?  I mean that it seems only one half of a clasp.  Have you not the other part?”

I shook my head, and she continued—­

“It is beautifully worked, and seems valuable.  Do you wish me to buy it?”

“Not exactly that,” I explained; “but if you think it worth anything I should like to stake it against an equivalent.”

“Very well; it might be worth three pounds—­perhaps more:  but you can stake it for that if you will.  Shall it be all at once?”

“Yes, let me have it over at once,” I said, and placed it on the red square marked 13.

She nodded, and bending over the table, set the pointer on its round.

This time I felt quite calm and cool.  All the intoxication of play had gone from me and left my nerves steady as iron.  As the needle swung round I scarcely looked at it, but fell to watching the faces of my fellow-gamblers with idle interest.  This stake would decide between life and death for me, but I did not feel it.  My passion had fallen upon an anti-climax, and I was even yawning when the murmur of many voices, and a small pile of gold and silver at my side, announced that I had won.

“So the luck was changed at last,” said the woman.  “Be brave whilst it is with you.”

In answer I again placed the clasp upon the number 13.

Once more I won, and this time heavily.  Tom laid his hand upon my shoulder and said, “Let us go,” but I shook my head and went on.