As he stood there, when his time had come, weighing the bowl in his hand, I knew that he prayed to his daemon, fate, star, whatever thing he raised an altar to and bent before.

He threw, and I followed, while the throng held its breath.

Master Macocke rose to his feet.

"It's a tie, my masters!" he exclaimed.
The excited crowd surged forward, and a babel of voices arose.

"Silence, all!" cried the Governor.