t
to propose a game is as good a way as any to let him understand that the
time has come to disgorge. It's less--how should I say?--vulgar. He will
know what it means. It's not a bad form to give to the business--which
in itself is crude, Martin, crude."

"Want to spare his feelings?" jeered the secretary in such a bitter tone
that Mr. Jones was really surprised.

"Why, it was your own notion, confound you!"

"Who says it wasn't?" retorted Ricardo sulkily. "But I am fairly sick of
this crawling. No! No! Get the exact bearings of his swag and then a rip
up. That's plenty good enough for him."

His passions being thoroughly aroused, a thirst for blood was allied in
him with a thirst for tenderness--yes, tenderness. A sort of anxious,
melting sensation pervaded and softened his heart when he thought of
that girl--one of his own sort. And at the same time jealousy started
gnawing at his breast as the image of Heyst intruded itself on his
fierce anticipation of bliss.

"The crudeness of your ferocity is positively gross, Martin," Mr. Jones
said disdainfully. "You don't even understand my purpose. I mean to
have some sport out of him. Just try to imagine the atmosphere of the
game--the fellow handling the cards--the agonizing mockery of it! Oh,
I shall appreciate this greatly. Yes, let him lose his money instead of
being forced to hand it over. You, of course, would shoot him at once,
but I shall enjoy the refinement and the jest of it. He's a man of the
best society. I've been hounded out of my sphere by people very much
like that fellow. How enraged and humiliated he will be! I promise
myself some exquisite moments while watching his play."

"Ay, and suppose he suddenly starts prancing. He may not appreciate the
fun."

"I mean you to be present," Mr. Jones remarked calmly.

"Well, as long as I am free to plug him or rip him up whenever I think
the time has come, you are welcome to your bit of sport, sir. I shan't
spoil it."

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was at this precise moment of their conversation that Heyst had
intruded on Mr. Jones and his secretary with his warning about Wang, as
he had related to Lena. When he left them, the two looked at each other
in wondering silence. My Jones was the first to break it.

"I say, Martin!"

"Yes, sir."

"What does this mean?"

"It's some move. Blame me if I can understand."

"Too deep for you?" Mr. Jones inquired dryly.

"It's nothing but some of his infernal imp