For a little while Ann contented herself with watching.

_"Faites vos jeux, messieurs. Messieurs, faites vos jeux."_

The ball spun round, and the croupier's monotone sounded warningly above
the whispering of notes and the clink of coin.

_"Le jeu est fait."_ It reminded Ann of the vicar intoning at the little
church she had attended in the old Lovell Court days. Only there were no
responses! Everybody was engrossed in watching the ball as it dodged in and
out amongst the numbers, hesitating maddeningly, then starting gaily off on
a fresh tack as though guided by some invisible spirit of malice.

_"Rien ne va plus!"_

Like the crack of doom came the last gabbled utterance, and the croupier's
rake descended sharply on a claw-like hand which was attempting to
insinuate a coin on to the cloth "after hours," so to speak.

_"Cinq!"_ An announcement which, five being the equivalent of the zero in
roulette, was followed by the hungry rake's sweeping everything into the
coffers of the bank except the five-franc note which Tony had staked on the
number _cinq_.

He gathered up his winnings, and, turning excitedly to Ann, demanded why
she wasn't playing.

"Follow me," he told her. "I'm going to win to-night. I feel it in my
bones."