Here is his will, which I am going
to send down to him for final execution this very day. My senior clerk
will take it, and you will meet him there. That will give you ample for
life. But what is the use of it all, if you can lose it in one night or
in one month among a pack of scoundrels?"
"If they be scoundrels, I am one of them."
"You lose your money. You are their dupe. To the best of my belief you
have never won. The dupes lose, and the scoundrels win. It must be so."
"You know nothing about it, Mr. Grey."
"This man who had your money last;--does he not live on it as a
profession? Why should he win always, and you lose?"
"It is my luck."
"Luck! There is no such thing as luck. Toss up, right hand against left
for an hour together, and the result will be the same. If not for an
hour, then do it for six hours. Take the average, and your cards will be
the same as another man's."
"Another man has his skill," said Mountjoy.
"And uses it against the unskillful to earn his daily bread. That is the
same as cheating. But what is the use of all this? You must have thought
of it all before."
"Yes, indeed."
"And thinking of it, you are determined to persevere. You are impetuous,
not thoughtless, with your brain clouded with drink, and for the mere
excitement of the thing, you are determined to risk all in a contest for
which there is no chance for you,--and by which you acknowledge you will
be driven to self-destruction, as the only natural end.
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