Cecil refused, was pressed, and refused again: but he never could withstand Frank for any length of time, and ended by accompanying him to a gambling-house. They knocked at the door; and after a scrupulous examination on the part of the porter, who did not at first recognise Frank—no one being admitted except when introduced by a frequenter of the house—they ascended to the drawing-room, where they found a rather numerous assembly.
There were three tables. That in the centre was the most attended: it was the rouge et noir table. That on the left was devoted to roulette; that on the right to hazard. There was a low hubbub and confusion of voices, above which rose these sounds:
"Make your game, gentlemen."
"The game is made."
"Seven's the main."
"Red wins."
Cecil approached the centre table, and was instantly made way for by two lookers-on. At the side centre sat the dealer, before him two packs of cards placed together; beside him two croupiers. Opposite sat two croupiers, and a man who collected and shuffled the cards. Piles of gold, bank notes, and silver counters were glittering on the table, enough to awaken the spirit of gain in the most prudent breast.
It was a painful sight. The features of the players were distorted by anxiety; those of the dealer and croupiers had become hardened into masks, more hideous in their sodden calmness than agitation could have made them.
Painful, also, the contrasts afforded by the players. Some were reckless, others calculating; some were feverish in their impatience; others lost in quiet despair small sums which to them were fortunes; while several passed hours together pricking a card with a pin, and trying to wrest the secret of the capricious goddess, by counting the turns of her wheel; then, after as much calculation and patience as would, if directed to any honest employment, have produced a tangible result, hazarding their solitary half-crown, and losing it in astonishment and dismay.
Seedy, withered men were also there, whose whole existence depended upon their trivial gains; who daily risked their few shillings, content to retire with a few shillings gain, which they took home to their wretched families—and if they lost, content to abide the loss, without further risk that day. There was one man there who bore the unmistakeable marks of a gentleman, in spite of the worn, anxious face and seedy dress; he was never known to miss an evening, and never to play more than four coups on each evening. His stake was invariably half a crown, and it was rare indeed that he did not win three coups out of the four—timing his stake with such knowledge of the chances. With the seven and sixpence or ten shillings he thus gained, he supported a wife and five children.