"Certainly not." Shields rapidly ran over his bank notes, and little stack of sovereigns. "I have been doing better these last few hands; I am now one hundred and twenty dollars loser."
The Colonel set down these figures. "And you, Count Castle—Cass"
"Castelleone." The Italian supplied his name with emphasis. "And you, Count Castelleone, how much are you the loser?"
There was no need for the Italian to recount his money. After each pot he knew exactly how he stood. "I have lost fifty-three sovereigns, sir."
"Say two hundred and sixty-five dollars—I understand better. And you, Signor Torreale?"
"Five hundred and forty-five dollars," that gentleman promptly responded.
The Baron von Reifenstein had been fingering his cash; now he suggested quietly, "I lose two hundred and ninety dollars."
The Colonel footed up these items, "That makes it twelve hundred and fifteen dollars. I am winner seven hundred and eighty-five dollars, which leaves four hundred and thirty dollars to be accounted for. Mr. Shields, may I ask you to go at once and find Mr. Eaton. Say to him that I should be greatly obliged by his return to this room with you."
