"Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play," cried
Pembroke. "Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
have won thy last sixpence?"

"Good sir," said Law, "let us first of all have the joint."

"I humbly crave a pardon, sir," said Pembroke. "In this new sort of
discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
haste! We have much yet to do."

"That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,"
said Law gaily. "See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
that--well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
to be mine this very night. You all say that _trente_ has not come up
for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
me when I need."

"By my faith," cried Wilson, "ye have a pretty way about you up in
Scotland!"

John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:

"True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways."