Time after time I won now, until the pile beside me became immense.  Again and again Tom whispered in my ear that we had won enough and that luck would change shortly, but I held on.  And now the others surrounded me in a small crowd and began to stake on the numbers I chose.  Put the clasp where I would the needle stopped in front of it.  They brought a magnet to see if this curious piece of metal had any power of attraction, but our hostess only laughed and assured them at any rate there was no steel in the pointer, as (she added) some of them ought to know by this time.  When eight times I had put the buckle down and eight times had found a fresh heap of coin at my side, she turned to me and said—­

“You play bravely, young man.  What is your name?”

“Jasper Trenoweth.”

Again I fancied I caught the gleam in her eyes; and this time it even seemed as though her teeth shut tight as she heard the words.  But she simply laughed a tranquil laugh and said—­

“A queer-sounding name, that Trenoweth.  Is it a lucky one?”

“Never, until now,” said I.

“Well, play on.  It does my heart good, this fight between us.  But you are careful, I see; why don’t you stake your pile as well while this wonderful run lasts?”

Again Tom’s hand was laid upon my shoulder, and this time his voice was urgent.  But I was completely deaf.

“As you please,” said I, coldly, and laid the whole pile down upon the black.

It was madness.  It was worse than madness.  But I won again; and now the heap of my winnings was enormous.  I glanced at the strange woman; she sat as impassive as ever.

“Play,” said she.

Thrice more I won, and now the pile beside her had to be replenished.  Yet she moved not a muscle of her face, not a lash of her mysterious eyes.

At last, sick of success, I turned and said—­

“I have had enough of this.  Will it satisfy you if I stake it all once more?”

Again she laughed.  “You are brave, Mr. Trenoweth, and indeed worth the fighting.  You may win to-night, but I shall win in the end.  I told you that I would readily lose to you, and so I will; but you take me at my word with a vengeance.  Still, I should like to possess that clasp of yours, so let it be once more.”

I laid the whole of my winnings on the red.  By this time all the guests had gathered round to see the issue of this conflict.  Not a soul put any money on this turn of the wheel, so engrossed were they in the duel.  Every face was white with excitement, every lip quivered.  Only we, the combatants, sat unmoved—­I and the strange woman with the unfathomable eyes.

“Red stands for many things,” said she, as she lightly twirled the needle round, “blood and rubies and lovers’ lips.  But black is the livery of Death, and Death shall win them all in the end.”