"
Dauntrey's face crimsoned, and the veins stood out in his temples. Then
the red faded, leaving him yellow pale.
"It will be your affair if I kill myself here, as I shall be driven to
do if you won't help me. My name will cause some little sensation after
I'm dead, if it never made any stir while I lived."
"Couldn't the Casino spare Lord Dauntrey five hundred pounds, at least?"
Mary begged, stumbling to the rescue. "It would be so dreadful for
everybody concerned if--if--anything happened."
"The administration cannot allow itself to be threatened," its
mouthpiece answered.
"My threat isn't an empty one," Dauntrey persisted. "You leave only one
exit open for me."
"I am sorry, but I have no authority to grant large sums to any one, on
any pretext." The tone was firm, but something in the eyes encouraged
Mary to persevere. She pleaded as nothing imaginable could have induced
her to plead for herself, and at last the man with the pince-nez
promised to "recommend the administration" to give his lordship two
thousand francs. Dauntrey was provided with a bit of yellow paper, such
as Mary had seen in the hand of the veiled woman. This, he was told,
must be presented upstairs, and in the morning Dauntrey would receive
the gift, or "loan," of two thousand francs.
Mary had expected him to be bitterly disappointed, but when she had
secured her hand-bag and they were leaving the Casino together, he
seemed comparatively cheerful. "With this money I may win everything
back at baccarat in Nice," he said, "if Eve doesn't object.
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