“Why, you 've lost, that's all,” said the other, as he looked intently on the table, and seemed to consider the point.
“Yes, Bubbleton, there's no doubt about it; you've lost. We forgot all about the last player,” said Hilliard.
A violent knocking at the outer door drowned the voices of all within, while a gruff voice shouted out, “Captain Bubbleton, the grand round is coming up Parliament Street.”
Bubbleton snatched up his sword, and dashing through the room, was followed by the others in a roar of laughter, Crofts alone remaining behind, proceeded leisurely to open the folded piece of bank paper that lay before him, while I stood opposite unable to take my eyes from him. Slowly unfolding the note, he flattened it with his hand, and then proceeded to read aloud,—
“Payez au porteur la somme de deux mille livres—,'
“I beg pardon,” interrupted I. “There's a mistake there; that belongs to me.”
“I thought as much,” replied Crofts, with a very peculiar smile; “I scarcely supposed my friend Bubbleton had gone so far.”
“There's the sum, sir,” said I, endeavoring to control my temper, and only eager to regain possession of what would at once have compromised me, if discovered. “This is what Captain Bubbleton lost; twenty pounds, if I mistake not?”
“I must entreat your pardon, sir,” said Crofts, folding up the French billet de hanque, “My wager was not with you, nor can I permit you to pay it. This is at present my property, and remains so until Captain Bubbleton demands it from me.”
I was struck dumb by the manner in which these words were spoken. It was clear to me, that not only he suspected the disguise of the ballad-singer, but that by the discovery of the French note he connected his presence with its being in my possession. Rousing myself for the effort, I said,—