"Trente et le va," he said. "I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid. Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there is much in this little shoe, empty as it is."
He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay before him. "'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe," he said, rousing himself from his half reverie.
"Confound thee, man!" cried Castleton, "that is the only thing we grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage—but of a shoe like this, there is not the equal this day in England!"
"So?" laughed Law. "Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run of trente. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of earth and nature."
"But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?" broke in Castleton. "Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence—"
"Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!" cried Wilson, ruffled by the doings of the evening.
"I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot small enough to wear it," cried Castleton.
"Meaning to me?" asked Law, politely.
"To any one," cried Castleton, quickly, "but most to thee, I fancy, since 'tis now thy shoe!"
"I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that of Madam Lawrence," said Law, suavely. "I'll lay you another forty crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen."