The General suddenly looked grave. "You are speaking, sir, under a
strange misapprehension," he said. "Our game is lansquenet--essentially
a game of chance. With luck, the poorest player is a match for the whole
table."

Romayne persisted in his refusal. As a matter of course, I supported
him, with all needful care to avoid giving offense. The General took
offense, nevertheless. He crossed his arms on his breast, and looked at
us fiercely.

"Does this mean, gentlemen, that you distrust the company?" he asked.

The broken-nosed Commander, hearing the question, immediately joined us,
in the interests of peace--bearing with him the elements of persuasion,
under the form of a lady on his arm.

The lady stepped briskly forward, and tapped the General on the shoulder
with her fan. "I am one of the company," she said, "and I am sure Mr.
Romayne doesn't distrust _me_." She turned to Romayne with her most
irresistible smile. "A gentleman always plays cards," she resumed,
"when he has a lady for a partner. Let us join our interests at the
table--and, dear Mr. Romayne, don't risk too much!" She put her pretty
little purse into his hand, and looked as if she had been in love with
him for half her lifetime.

The fatal influence of the sex, assisted by wine, produced the
inevitable result. Romayne allowed himself to be led to the card table.
For a moment the General delayed the beginning of the game. After what
had happened, it was necessary that he should assert the strict sense of