‘And now, what is your pursuit? what career do you follow?’ asked Gerald abruptly.
‘I have none, sir; the attraction that binds the ruined gambler to sit at the table and watch the game at which others are staking heavily, ties me to any enterprise wherein men are willing to risk much. I have seen so much high play in life, I cannot stand by petty ventures. They told me at Venice of the plot that was maturing here, and I agreed with old Sir Capel Crosbie to come over and hear about it.’
‘You little suspected, perhaps, who was the hero of the adventure?’ said Gerald half doubtingly.
‘Nay, sir, I saw your picture, and recognised you at once.
‘I never knew there had been a portrait of me!’ cried Gerald, in astonishment.
‘It was taken, I fancy, during your illness; but the resemblance is still complete, and recalls to those who knew the Prince, your father, every trait and lineament of his face.’
‘You yourself knew him?’ said Gerald feelingly.
A deep, cold bow was the only acknowledgment of this question.
‘They told me you were one of his trusted and truest friends?’
‘We wore each other’s miniature for many a year; our happiness was to talk of what might have chanced to be our destiny had he won back the throne that was his right, and I succeeded to what my father’s gold should have purchased. I see I am alluding to what you never heard of. You see before you one who might have been a King of Poland.’