intellect and his will, he had also firm reliance on his intuitive
sense. With Lars Larssen, all three worked hand in hand.

Olive began to win. Her eyes sparkled, and she exchanged little gay
pleasantries and compliments with the shipowner.

"We've made all the loose hay out of _this_ sunshine," said Larssen
after an hour or so, when a spell of losing set in. "Now we'll move to
another table."

Olive obeyed him with alacrity. She liked his masterful orders. Here was
a man to whom one could give confidence.

"Five louis on _carré_ 16-20," he advised suddenly when they had found
place at another table.

Without hesitation she placed a gold hundred-franc piece on the
intersecting point of the four squares 16, 17, 19, 20. The croupier
flicked the white marble between thumb and second finger, and it whizzed
round the roulette board like an echo round the whispering gallery of St
Paul's. At length it slowed down, hit against a metal deflector, and
dropped sharply into one of the thirty-seven compartments of the
roulette board. A croupier silently touched the square of 16 with his
rake to indicate that this number had won, and the other croupier
proceeded to gather in the stakes.

Forty louis in notes were pushed over to Olive.

At this moment Sir Francis' valet came up to Larssen with a telegram in
his hand. The latter opened and scanned it quickly.