e lower edge of
the long table, brushing Winston with her flapping skirt as she passed,
bent down, and whispered a half-dozen rapid sentences into the
gambler's ear. The hands, already deftly shuffling the cards for
another deal, scarcely paused in their operations, nor did those cool,
observant eyes once desert the sea of excited faces before him. He
asked a single brief question, nodded carelessly to the hastily spoken
reply, and then, as the woman drew noiselessly away, Winston gazed
directly into the startled black eyes of Senorita Mercedes. Instantly
she smiled merrily, exhibiting her white teeth.

"Ah, senor," and she bent toward him in seductive whisper, "so my lady,
de Americana, let you escape early to-night!"

Surprised at her recognition, he failed to answer immediately, and the
girl touched him gently with her hand.

"De girls of my race never so cold, senor. Try me some time, an' see."

With a happy laugh and coquettish uplifting of the dark eyes, the
dancer was as quickly gone, vanishing into the throng like a flash of
red flame. For a breathless moment Winston's admiring gaze followed,
conscious merely of her dark beauty, her slender, graceful figure. He
was young, impressionable, and there was rare witchery about the girl
which momentarily fascinated him. His attention shifted back to
Farnham with a swift remembrance of the stern purpose which had brought
him there. The gambler was playing out his case silently, emotionless
as ever. If he had observed anything unusual, if he considered
anything beyond his card-play, no eye could have detected it in that
impassive countenance, those cold, expressionless eyes. Apparently he
was a mere automaton, the sole symbol of life showing in the white
fingers so deftly dealing the fateful pasteboards from the box. The
impatient, excited crowd facing him moved restlessly, cursing or
laughing with each swift turn of play; but he who wrought the spell
neither spoke nor smiled, his face remaining fixed, immutable, as
emotionless as carven granite. Suddenly he glanced meaningly aside,
and, nodding silently to a black-moustached fellow lounging beside the
croupier, rose quickly from his chair. The other as instantly slipped
into it, his hands guarding the few remaining cards, while Farnham
stood for a moment behind the chair, idly looking on. There was no
noticeable interruption to the game, and when the final card came
gliding forth from the silver box, t