Finally he laid down his cards and spread them so that all could see. Only then did he lift ice-blue eyes to the young man across the table. But his face was expressionless. All three of his fellow players threw their own cards onto the table, two of them with a resigned shrug, Darnley with an involuntary exclamation of annoyance.

"Luck ith with you today, Raymore," he said casually. "Mutht leave now. Appointment to dwive Lady Awabella Matthewth in the park. Muthn't be late. Will call tomowwow to pay my debt, dear fellow."

The sixth Earl of Raymore looked steadily and cynically at Darnley. "I shall be at home over the luncheon hour," he said, "though, of course, you may always see my secretary if I am not at home. Sheldon's door is always open."

Darnley bowed stiffly and left the room with his head held high. The onlookers drifted away, some of them to the other table, where the play was still in progress, others to another room.

Not entirely fair, Edward, to rub it in quite like that," the player to Raymore's left said quietly. "You know very well that Darnley will not call on you tomorrow. He don't have the blunt."

Then he should admit as much, Henry," Raymore said with a careless shrug as he tapped the vouchers and bank notes into a neater pile before him. "He should have asked for more time."

"Come now," Sir Henry Martel replied with an un-¦ It] laugh, "you must allow a man some way to save his dignity. It takes some courage to admit to having played:*-vond one's means, especially in this club. Have a heart, man."

Raymore regarded his friend coolly. "If he chooses to gamble when he has not the means, he should be man enough to take his losses," he said. "I have no sympathy. Do not try to make a bleeding heart of me, Henry."