Mr Davison's manner towards the daughter of the house was scarcely courteous. Perhaps he resented the surprise she had shown at his appearance.
"Five pounds--or fifty."
M. de Fontanes smiled at the board as he murmured this liberal agreement with his guest's suggestion.
It was not the drink that night, but the cards! The younger player never touched a king. Never had a man such luck before. In so short a space of time as to make the whole affair seem like a conjuring trick, his debt to M. de Fontanes had entered its second century. He appeared to grow bewildered, as, indeed, in the face of such a run of luck an older player might easily have done. He got into such a state that he would have been unable to play the cards even if he had had them, and he never had them.
"This--this is awful!" he groaned. "At this rate I shall be able to do nothing even if luck turns. What do you say to doubling the stakes?"
Mdlle. de Fontanes was reclining in an easy-chair, ostensibly reading a book; in reality following the game. She sprang to her feet.
"I forbid it!" she cried. "Father, I forbid it!"
"Do not disturb yourself, my child. I am in all things moderate. The stakes are high enough--for me."
Mr Davison's losses increased. He never scored a trick. He was making a record in bad luck. His lips were parched, his hands trembling.
"That makes three hundred pounds," said M. de Fontanes, reading his tablets.