No man could be more aware of his one besetting weakness, nor of his
inability to conquer it, than was Captain Ducie. When he could no longer
muster five pounds to gamble with, he would gamble with five shillings.
There was a public-house in Southwark to which, poorly dressed, he
sometimes went when his funds were low. Here, unknown to the police, a
little quiet gambling for small stakes went on from night to night. But
however small might be the amount involved, there was the passion, the
excitement, the gambling contagion, precisely as at Homburg or Baden;
and these it was that made the very salt of Captain Ducie's life.

About six months before we made his acquaintance he had been compelled
to leave his pleasant suite of apartments in New Bond Street, and had,
since that time, been the tenant of a shabby bed-room in a shabby little
out-of-the-way street. When in town he took his meals at his club, and
to that address all letters and papers for him were sent. But of late
even the purlieus of his club had become dangerous ground. Round the
palatial portal duns seemed to hover and flit mysteriously, so that the
task of reaching the secure haven of the smoking-room was one of danger
and difficulty; while the return voyage to the shabby little bed-room in
the shabby little street could be accomplished in safety only by
frequent tacking and much skilful pilotage, to avoid running foul of
various rocks and quicksands by the way.

But now, after a six weeks' absence in Scotland, Captain Ducie felt
that for a day or two at least he was tolerably safe. He felt like an
old fox venturing into the open after the noise of the hunt has died
away in the distance, who knows that for a little while he is safe from
molestation. How delightful town looked, he thought, after the dull life
he had been leading at Stapleton. He had managed to screw another fifty