"No, no—that is, not often—not very often," said the foolish young man, afraid of being deemed unfashionable in the eyes of his new acquaintances if he admitted that he never yet handled a dice-box in his life.
"Oh! no—not often—of course not!" exclaimed Dunstable, who saw through the artifice: "neither do I. But here comes Crockey with the bank."
And, as he spoke, Mr. Crockford made his appearance, holding in his hands an elegant rosewood case, which he placed upon the table, and behind which he immediately seated himself.
The dice-box was now taken by Lord Dunstable, who set ten sovereigns, called "five" as a main, and threw seven.
"Seven to five!" exclaimed the groom-porter.
"Three to two are the odds," said Sir Rupert Harborough to Egerton: "I'll take them of you in fifties?"
"Done," cried Egerton; and in another moment he had the pleasure of handing over his money to the baronet.
After Lord Dunstable had thrown out, Mr. Chichester took the box, and Cholmondeley in his turn ensnared Egerton into a private bet, which the young man of course lost. But he parted from his bank-notes with a very good grace; for, although considerably sobered by the soda-water which he had drunk at the Paradise, yet what with the wine and the idea of being at that moment beneath Crockford's roof, he was sufficiently intoxicated to be totally reckless of his financial affairs.
Thus, after having lost a bet to each of his friends, he was easily persuaded to take the box, and dispense a little more of his cash for the especial benefit of Mr. Crockford.
"I'll set a hundred pounds," cried Egerton, "and call five the main."