he imperturbable gamester turned
deliberately away from the table, heedless of the desperate struggle
about him, the curses and uproar, and faced the younger man still
leaning against the wall.

"Mr. Winston?" he questioned quietly.

Surprised by this unexpected notice, the other bowed in silent
acknowledgment of his name.

A faint sarcastic smile curved the thin, compressed lips, while Farnham
ran one hand carelessly through his slightly curling hair.

"I should like a few words with you in private," he explained politely.
"There is a vacant room we can use--this way."

Astonished into yielding without protest, and at the same time feeling
sufficiently eager to learn the cause for such a request, Winston
unhesitatingly followed the other through the press, marking as he did
so the slender erectness of that figure in advance, the square set of
the broad shoulders, the easy air of authority with which he cleared
the way. Without ceremony Farnham flung aside a heavy brocaded
curtain, glancing inquiringly into the smaller room thus revealed. It
contained a square table and half a dozen chairs. Three men sat
within, their feet elevated, quietly smoking. The gambler coolly ran
his eyes over their uplifted faces.

"I desire to use this room, gents," he announced quietly. "You 'll
find plenty of vacant space outside."

Whether the lounging trio knew the speaker of old, or were sufficiently
satisfied from his stern face of the probable results should they long
hesitate to comply, the three pairs of feet came down together, their
owners passing out in single file. Farnham waved his hand politely
toward the vacated interior, a slight measure of deference apparent in
his modulated voice.

"Help yourself to a chair, Mr. Winston, and permit me to offer you a
fresh cigar; a fairly good one I imagine, as I chance to be somewhat
particular regarding the weed."

A moment they sat thus furtively studying each other's face across the
table through the increasing clouds of blue smoke, the younger man
puzzled and filled with vague suspicion, the elder still rather
uncertain of his present ground, as well as of the exact sort of
character opposing him. He was somewhat expert in judging human
nature; and the full, square chin, the frank, open look in those steady
gray eyes across the table left him doubtful of the final outcome.

"No doubt, my addressing you by name was something of a surprise," he
began, leaning slightly