He was handed over to his pursuers and conducted from the rooms, amidst the plaudits of the gamblers.

He bade good-night to his liveried friends on the threshold of the Casino, congratulating them on their increasing efficiency in "Le Sport," and warm, but happy with the sense of one more duty done, he strolled into the gardens to cool.
[Illustration: The pursuit was lively, but short.] He was noiseless in his pumps, and coming quietly round a clump of shrubs, he caught Mr.Arthur Courtnay in the act of trying to kiss Madame de Belle-Ile with a fervour only justified by the most romantic attachment.
"Oh!" said Tinker reproachfully; and even more reproachfully he began to sing: "Coupez vos cheveux! Coupez vos cheveux!" With an execration which was by no means muttered, Mr.Arthur Courtnay sprang up.

Tinker darted away, and Courtnay followed.

They pelted through the gardens, Courtnay gaining; but as he passed a couple of gendarmes standing in front of the Casino, Tinker yelled: "Gare le voyou! Gare le voyou!" Instinctively the gendarmes flung themselves before Courtnay, and his impetus brought the three of them to the ground with some violence.
With one fleeting glance behind, Tinker scudded on to the hotel, and once safely in his room abandoned himself without restraint to convulsions of inextinguishable delight.

When he recovered his habitual calm, he saw that Fortune had given him a weapon with which he might save his cousin.
Mr.Arthur Courtnay and the gendarmes picked themselves up; he made his explanations, and wisely compensated them for the bruises they had received in his fall.