u," he said.

"What do you know about it?"

"Not much, but I'm willing to learn."

"Well, I'm not teaching for pennies to-night."

"Oh, that's all right," Grief answered. "I'll play for almost any
sum--within reason, of course."

Deacon proceeded to dispose of this intruder with one stroke.

"I'll play you a hundred pounds a game, if that will do you any good."

Grief beamed his delight. "That will be all right, very right. Let us
begin. Do you count sweeps?"

Deacon was taken aback. He had not expected a Goboton trader to be
anything but crushed by such a proposition.

"Do you count sweeps?" Grief repeated.

Andrews had brought him a new deck, and he was throwing out the joker.

"Certainly not," Deacon answered. "That's a sissy game."

"I'm glad," Grief coincided. "I don't like sissy games either."

"You don't, eh? Well, then, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll play for
five hundred pounds a game."

Again Deacon was taken aback.

"I'm agreeable," Grief said, beginning to shuffle. "Cards and spades go
out first, of course, and then big and little casino, and the aces in
the bridge order of value. Is that right?"

"You're a lot of jokers down here," Deacon laughed, but his laughter was
strained. "How do I know you've got the money?"

"By the same token I know you've got it. Mac, how's my credit with the
company?"

"For all you want," the manager answered.

"You personally guarantee that?" Deacon demanded.

"I certainly do," McMurtrey said. "Depend upon it, the company will
honour his paper up and past your letter of credit."

"Low deals," Grief said, placing the deck before Deacon on the table.

The latter hesitated in the midst of the cut and looked around with
querulous misgiving at the faces of the others. The clerks and captains
nodded.

"You're all strangers to me," Deacon complained. "How am I to know?
Money on paper isn't always the real thing."

Then it was that Peter Gee, drawing a wallet from his pocket and
borrowing a fountain pen from McMurtrey, went into action.

"I haven't gone to buying yet," the half-caste explained, "so the
account is intact. I'll just indorse it over to you, Grief. It's for
fifteen thousand. There, look at it."

Deacon intercepted the letter of credit as it was being passed across
the table. He read it slowly, then glanced up at McMurtrey.

"Is that right?"

"Yes. It's just the same as your own, and just as good. The company's
paper is always good."