"What's the matter, my friends? what's the matter?" asked the baron, very calmly.
"There's been a run on the red! there's been a run on the red! and your excellency's stake has doubled each time. It has been 4--8--16--32--64--128--256; and now it's 512!" quickly rattled a little thin man in spectacles, pointing at the same time to his unparalleled line of punctures. This was one of those officious, noisy little men, who are always ready to give you unasked information on every possible subject, and who are never so happy as when they are watching over the interest of some stranger, who never thanks them for their unnecessary solicitude.
Vivian, in spite of his philosophy, felt the excitement and wonder of the moment. He looked very earnestly at the baron, whose countenance, however, remained perfectly unmoved.
"Grey," said he, very coolly, "it seems we're in luck."
"The stake's then not all your own?" very eagerly asked the little man in spectacles.
"No, part of it is yours, sir," answered the baron, very dryly.
"I'm going to deal," said the short, thick man behind. "Is the board cleared?"
"Your excellency then allows the stake to remain?" inquired the tall, thin banker, with affected nonchalance.
"Oh! certainly," said the baron, with real nonchalance.
"Three--eight--fourteen--twenty-four--thirty-four, Rouge 34--"