A young officer, whose age could not have exceeded twenty, was seated at the further end of the green-baize covered board. A huge pile of notes and gold lay before him; but at rapid intervals one of the Croupiers raked away the stakes which he deposited; and thus his heap of money was gradually growing smaller.
"Well, this is extraordinary!" ejaculated the young officer; "I never saw the luck set so completely in against me. However—I can afford to lose a little; for I broke your bank for you last night, my boys?"
"What does that mean?" demanded Richard in a whisper.
"He won all the money which the proprietor deposited in that tin case, he means," replied Chichester.
"And how much do you suppose that might be?"
"About fifteen hundred to two thousand pounds."
"Here—waiter!" exclaimed the young officer, who had just lost another stake,—"a glass of claret."
The waiter handed him a glass of the wine so demanded. The young officer did not notice him for a moment, but waited to see the result of the next chance.
He lost again.
He turned round to seize the glass of wine; but when his eyes caught sight of it, his countenance became almost livid with rage.