As he was going into the Casino he met the manager, who greeted him effusively.
"Ah, Mr. Stephenson, they told me you were going away--I'm glad to see it isn't true!"
"It is quite true, sir," said Oscar.
"Why should you? The season isn't at an end yet."
"But my money is," said Oscar; whereupon the manager laughed, put his arm through Oscar's and walked back with him toward the baccarat-room, whispering:
"Mr. Stephenson, I told you the house liked to see you take the hank. The game is good when you are in the chair. Now there are a few gentlemen here to-night who would play high if they had the proper inducement. Don't go, Mr. Stephenson."
"But I'm penniless--don't you understand me?--penniless."
"Come this way."
They were in the baccarat-room by this time and the manager was drawing Oscar toward the alcove.
"I must ask you to excuse me. I have a lady to speak to, and my train to catch," said Oscar.