ny interest in his game. 'Solitaire,'
he says to me, 'is an old man's trade.' It's a great game, Mr.
Kendrick."

"A great game," repeated Kendrick, "yes, it's a great game." His tone
was dull. "I want to know how it's played," he said again.

"The six of clubs," reflected the mayor, throwing down another card.
"Say, she's going fine now. There ain't much to it. You use two decks,
exactly alike--shuffle 'em together--the eight of hearts--the jack
of--say, that's great--you lay the cards down here, just as they
come--like this--"

He paused. His huge hand held a giddy pasteboard. A troubled look was on
his face. Then he smiled happily, and went on in triumph.

"And then you build, Mr. Kendrick," he said. "The reds and the blacks.
You build the blacks on the left, and the reds on the right--do you get
me? Then--say, what's the matter?"

For Kendrick had swayed and almost fallen on the admiral's game--the
game that had once sent a man to hell.

"Go on," he said, bracing. "Nothing's the matter. Go on. Build, damn it,
build!"

The mayor looked at him a moment in surprise, then continued.

"Now the king," he muttered, "now the ace. We're on the home stretch,
going strong. There, it's finished. It's come out right. A great game, I
tell you."

He leaned back. Kendrick's fever-yellowed face was like a bronze mask.
His eyes were fiercely on the table and the two decks of cards that lay
there.

"And when you've finished," he pointed. "When you've finished--"

Mr. Cargan picked up the deck on the left.

"All black," he said, "when the game comes out right."

"And the other?" Kendrick persisted softly. He pointed to the remaining
deck. A terrible smile of understanding drew his thin lips taut. "And
the other, Mr. Cargan?"

"Red," replied Cargan. "What else could it be? All red."

He picked it up and shuffled through it to prove his point. Kendrick
turned like a drunken man and staggered back down the aisle. Magee rose
and hurried after him. At the door he turned, and the look on his face
caused Magee to shudder.

"You heard?" he said helplessly. "My God! It's funny, isn't it?" He
laughed hysterically, and drawing out his handkerchief, passed it across
his forehead. "A pleasant thing to think about--a pleasant thing to
remember."

Professor Bolton pushed open the smoker door.

"I thought I'd join you," he began. "Why, David, what is it? What's the
matter?"

"Nothing," replied Kendrick wildly. "There's nothing