"I'd rather make it sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win." The players leaned over the table as the deal went on.

Once, twice, thrice, the cards went round.

A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from those who looked at the deal.

Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.
"_Trente et le va_," he said.

"I knew that it would come.