Nor had the man any alternative but to vacate his seat.
Paul's spirits rose as for the first time in his life he found himself seated by the lady's side, playing on her behalf, to win a desperate game.
But the girl's inspiration was gone, and Paul's knowledge of this form of gambling availed him nothing. Time after time they lost until practically nothing remained of the great pile of money which had been stacked on the table before her when he had entered the room.
The girl watched the money dwindle with every evidence of consternation.
"Don't despair," he whispered. "I think I have enough with me to see us through."
When he had at first sat down to assist her she had stared at him with considerable astonishment. Now she appeared utterly confused.
"I don't understand," she said in a low voice. "You have certainly done your best to help me, but I cannot see why you wish me to win."
Paul turned and looked her full in the eyes.
"How long will it be," he asked in a low voice, "before you come to trust me?"
Without further word he drew from his pocket the liberal supply of bank-notes with which he had prepared himself for his evening's play, and laid them on the table before his astonished companion.
As this little scene had attracted more attention from those about him than pleased Verdayne, he indicated with a slight nod to the _croupier_ to proceed, and calmly placed a pile of gold pieces of large denomination on the green double nought.
The wheel spun. The ball clicked slower and slower. The gaming spirit of the devotees once more claimed them and the veiled lady and her chivalrous escort were forgotten in the interest centered on the little ivory sphere.
Slower and slower and slower it ran, until it settled in place with a last click.
The company drew a mingled long breath. The monotonous sing-song voice of the _croupier_ chanted, "Twenty-six and the black wins," and he raked away the stake from before the veiled lady.
Paul's face never changed, nor did the lady speak. Once more the gold was piled, and once more raked away. The other players, forgetting the strange entrance of the lady's champion, were now absorbed in following his failing fortune.
Again and again Paul lost, until finally the last of the generous pile was swept away. With a truly stoical British smile Paul reached for his cheque book, and glanced about him for some one who possibly could identify him. But the lady rose from the table with a little gasp and steadied herself with her hands on the back of her chair.