"It's morning now," said the marquis with a yawn. "Why not go to bed, old man?"
"No, thank you," said Blair with a grim smile. "Why should I go to bed?"
"Why, to sleep," replied the young lord.
"Yes, but I don't sleep," came the instant retort. "No, I think I'll go down to the Green Table."
"Oh, hang the Green Table!" exclaimed the colonel. "What's the use of going to that beastly place?"
"As for that, what's the use of going to any beastly place?" said Blair, and he rang the bell and asked for his overcoat.
"We'd better go with him, I suppose?" whispered the marquis; and when the footman had helped Blair on with his coat, they got theirs and followed him; Austin Ambrose walking by his side, his face calm and serene with its cool, set smile.
The tables at the gaming club seemed pretty well crowded, but Blair found a chair presently and began to play. The marquis and Colonel Floyd stood behind him with Austin Ambrose.
Neither of the men had spoken a word to him, beyond returning his greeting as he entered the club, but now impelled by his anxiety on Blair's account, the marquis addressed him.
"I say, Ambrose, you know," he interposed; "poor old Blair is going to the—de—devil, don't you know!"