myself. Good-by."

The face of Frederic Fernand was dark when he went back to McKeever.
"What do you think of the fellow with Jerry Smith?" he asked.

"Of him?" asked McKeever, fencing desperately for another moment, as he
stared at Ronicky Doone.

The latter was idling at a table close to the wall, running his hands
through a litter of magazines. After a moment he raised his head
suddenly and glanced across the room at McKeever. The shock of meeting
glances is almost a physical thing. And the bold, calm eyes of Ronicky
Doone lingered on McKeever and seemed to judge him and file that
judgment away.

McKeever threw himself upon the wings of his imagination. There was
something about this fellow, or his opinion would not have been asked.
What was it?

"Well?" asked Frederic Fernand peevishly. "What do you think of him?"

"I think," said the other casually, "that he's probably a Western
gunman, with a record as long as my arm."

"You think that?" asked the fat man. "Well, I've an idea that you think
right. There's something about him that suggests action. The way he
looks about, so slowly--that is the way a fearless man is apt to look,
you know. Do you think you can sit at the table with Ronicky Doone, as
they call him, and Jerry Smith and win from them this evening?"

"With any sort of luck--"

"Leave the luck out of it. John Mark has made a special request.
Tonight, McKeever, it's going to be your work to make the luck come to
you. Do you think you can?"

A faint smile began to dawn on the face of McKeever. Never in his life
had he heard news so sweet to his ear. It meant, in brief, that he was
to be trusted for the first time at real manipulation of the cards. His
trust in himself was complete. This would be a crushing blow for
Simonds.

"Mind you," the master of the house went on, "if you are caught at
working--"

"Nonsense!" said McKeever happily. "They can't follow my hands."

"This fellow Doone--I don't know."

"I'll take the chance."

"If you're caught I turn you out. You hear? Are you willing to take the
risk?"

"Yes," said McKeever, very pale, but determined.

At the right moment McKeever approached Jerry and Ronicky, dark,
handsome, smoothly amiable. He was clever enough to make no indirect
effort to introduce his topic. "I see that you gentlemen are looking
about," he said. "Yonder is a clear table for us. Do you agree, Mr.
Smith?"

Jerry Smith nodded, and, having introduced Ronicky Do