Mr. Kempshead drew to the table, and purchased eight round pieces of ivory, each about the size of a shilling, for which he paid the bland and smiling croupier one sovereign.
Peace handed his friend a sovereign, and requested him to purchase eight pieces for him.
Opposite to the two friends was a bald-headed florid-complexioned man, who, Kempshead informed our hero, was a large merchant in the City. He was supposed to be very wealthy, but was a frequent visitor to the club. As a rule, he preferred rouge et noir to roulette.
Near to the florid-faced man were two young fellows of gentlemanly appearance, speech, and demeanour; but the gambling contagion had seized hold of them, and their whole souls seemed intent upon the whirling of the roulette.
Peace placed a counter upon the red patch of cloth. His companion had already put one on the black patch, which he had forfeited.
The general banker now gave the roulette a twist with the handle, and at the same time a marble shot round the circling edge.
The little ball flew round and round in one direction, and the roulette spun in the opposite, until at length the impetus of the marble was insufficient to keep it upon the slanting surface of the frame, and it sank upon the still twisting roulette and settled into a pocket opposite one of the squares.
The square in question was a red one, and the banker handed Peace another counter, value two shillings and sixpence.
Meanwhile the vivacious croupier kept the ball rolling, and continued the game, with many quaint and curious sayings, which seemed to be especially diverting to most of the members and visitors present.
He hospitably invited Peace to drink, enumerating a long list of refreshments for him to choose from; but our hero politely declined. He was bent upon keeping himself as sober as possible—indeed, drinking was not one of his vices; neither was gambling—he had enough bad qualities, in all conscience, without adding either of these to the list.