show, do not hesitate to accept penny bets on horse races from boys. There are "swell" boarding-*houses, we know, in secluded country retreats, where roulette, rouge et noir, and baccarat are played nightly all the year round, not for pounds, but for hundreds of pounds, and the police of the districts concerned never disturb the accursed play. There are luxurious flats in London where similar play goes on, equally undisturbed by the police. And there are the gaming hells, such as Miss Corelli describes, where often may be seen men of distinction, whose names are familiar to every ear, destroying their peace, their prosperity, the happiness of themselves and their families, for the luck of the cards.
To such a place as this—where wealth and position were the only "open sesames"—went Tempest and Prince Rimânez. Both, so rich that it mattered not to them what resulted, play and win heavily, mainly from a Viscount Lynton. Rimânez here stays one of the only good impulses that came to Geoffrey Tempest after his accession to wealth. He would have forgiven the Viscount his ruinous losses. And so the play goes on, and then—a merry bet—Lynton plays with Rimânez at baccarat for a queer stake—his soul. Of course he loses, and Rimânez has but a short time to wait to collect
