could see now that he was naturally fair-skinned, although tanned by the
sun. A small scar, high up on the left cheek-bone, showed like a white line
against the tan. Probably he had lived abroad in a hot climate, she
reflected; that deep bronze was never the achievement of an elusive
northern sun. It emphasised the penetrating quality of his eyes, giving
them a curious brilliance. Ann had been conscious of a little shock each
time she had encountered them. She was inclined to set his actual age at
thirty-six or seven, though his face might have been that of a man of
forty. But there was a suggestion of something still boyish about it,
notwithstanding the rather stern-set features and bitter-looking mouth. She
felt as though the bitterness revealed in his expression did not rightly
belong to the man's nature. It was in essence alien--something that life
had added to him.

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

The croupier's droning voice recalled her sharply from her thoughts.

"Which is it to be this time, Tony?" she asked, smiling.

"Seven and _impair_," he replied tersely. And in due course the seven
turned up.

Their run of luck was continuing without a break, and plenty of amused and
interested glances were cast at the young couple of successful players.
They were taking it all so easily, with a careless, light-hearted enjoyment
that was rather refreshing to turn to after a glimpse of some of the
furtive, vulture-like faces gathered round the tables. Meanwhile, the
grey-eyed Englishman continued to lose with the same persistency as his
young compatriots were winning. Apparently he was playing on a system, for,