For a few minutes the Grandmother watched him.

“Go and tell him,” suddenly she exclaimed with a nudge at my elbow, “⁠—go and tell him to stop, and to take his money with him, and go home. Presently he will be losing⁠—yes, losing everything that he has now won.” She seemed almost breathless with excitement.

“Where is Potapitch?” she continued. “Send Potapitch to speak to him. No, you must tell him, you must tell him,”⁠—here she nudged me again⁠—“for I have not the least notion where Potapitch is. Sortez, sortez ,” she shouted to the young man, until I leant over in her direction and whispered in her ear that no shouting was allowed, nor even loud speaking, since to do so disturbed the calculations of the players, and might lead to our being ejected.