“‘Mr. Botfield,’ said Col. Leveson. (My real name is Botfield; I only took the name of Baines when I fell into disgrace and misery.)
“Lord George muttered an exclamation of some sort—whether of surprise or vexation I could not tell—and advanced to the table.
“‘Do you mind my joining you?’ he said, appealing to nobody in particular. There was a general assent, and he sat down. Hallam would not take a hand. He hated cards; his passion was for billiards, and he played nothing else. He came and stood behind me to watch the game. I felt him lay his hand on my shoulder, as if to encourage me and remind me that he was there to stand by me and take my part against my late bully, if needs be. It did not seem as if he was likely to be called upon to do so. My late bully was as gracious as man could be—at least he intended to be so; but I took his familiar facetiousness for covert impertinence, and it made my blood boil quite as fiercely as his recent open insult had done. I was not man of the world enough to understand that Lord George was only doing his duty to society; that he was in fact behaving beautifully, with infinite tact, like an accomplished gentleman. I could not understand that the social canons of his ‘set’ made it incumbent on a man to joke and laugh and demean himself in this lively, careless fashion towards the man whom he was going to shoot in a few hours. I grew inwardly exasperated, and it was nothing but pride and an unprecedented effort of will that enabled me to keep my temper and remain outwardly cool. For a time, for about twenty minutes, the luck continued in the same vein; my half-sovereign had been paid back to me more than fifty times. Col. Leveson was right when he said he had sold his hand for a song. Hallam was all this time standing behind my chair, smoking his cigar, and throwing in a word between the puffs. The clock struck two.
“‘Come off now, Botfield,’ he said, tapping me on the shoulder—‘come off while your star is shining; it is sure to go down if you stay too long.’
“‘Very likely, most sage and prudent mentor,’ retorted Lord George; ‘but that cuts both ways. Your friend has been pocketing our money up to this; it’s only fair he should give us a chance of winning it back and pocketing a little of his. That is a law universally recognized, I believe.’ As he said this, he turned to me good-humoredly enough; but I saw where the emphasis pointed, and, stung to the quick, I replied that I had not the least intention of going counter to the law; I would remain as long as the game lasted.
“‘Halloo! That’s committing yourself somewhat rashly,’ interposed Hallam. ‘You don’t know what nefarious gamblers these fellows are; they’re capable of keeping it up till morning!’
“‘If they do, I shall keep it up with them,’ I replied recklessly. I was desperate, and my luck was good.
“Hallam said no more, but sauntered to the other side of the table, where I felt his eyes fixed on me warningly, entreatingly.
“I looked up at last, and met them fastened on me in a mute, impatient appeal. I answered it by a peremptory nod. He saw I would not brook farther interference, so he took himself off to the billiard-room, and did not reappear for an hour.
“I cannot recall clearly what passed during the interval. The luck had turned suddenly against me; but, nothing daunted, I went on playing desperately, losing as fast as I had been winning, only in much heavier sums; for the stakes had risen enormously on the change of luck. There was a large pool, immense it seemed to me—some two hundred pounds. I lost again and again. At last terror sobered me. I began to realize the madness of my conduct, and wanted to withdraw; but they cried out against it, reminded me that I had pledged myself to remain and see the game out. Lord George was loudest in protesting that I must remain. ‘One can’t have luck always,’ he said, ‘A man must put up with it when the tide turns. It is of good omen for you, Mr. Botfield,’ he added pointedly; ‘you will be in splendid luck to-morrow.’