“I know one member of the party who can walk round him,” said Rex softly, an alert look coming into his eyes; “that cadaverous-looking Major who arrived last night. I’ve seen him play at St. Moritz. If I could get Strinnit to lay odds on himself against the Major the money would be safe in my pocket. This looks like the good thing I’ve been watching and praying for.”

“Don’t be rash,” counselled Clovis, “Strinnit may play up to his self-imagined form once in a blue moon.”

“I intend to be rash,” said Rex quietly, and the look on his face corroborated his words.

“Are you all going to flock to the billiard-room?” asked Teresa Thundleford, after dinner, with an air of some disapproval and a good deal of annoyance. “I can’t see what particular amusement you find in watching two men prodding little ivory balls about on a table.”

“Oh, well,” said her hostess, “it’s a way of passing the time, you know.”