disturbed his
chair, and rising to put it straight again, the gambler was seen to be
about the height and build of Donnegan.

Donnegan studied him with the interest of an artist. Here was a man,
harking back to Nelly Lebrun and her love of brilliance, who would
probably win her preference over Jack Landis for the simple reason that
he was different. That is, there was more in his cravat to attract
astonished attention in The Corner than there was in all the silver lace
of Landis. And he was a man's man, no doubt of that. On the inebriate he
had flashed one glance of fire, and his lean hand had stirred uneasily
toward the breast of his coat. Donnegan, who missed nothing, saw and
understood.

Interested? He was fascinated by this man because he recognized the
kinship which existed between them. They might almost have been blood
brothers, except for differences in the face. He knew, for instance,
just what each glance of the man in the linen coat meant, and how he was
weighing his antagonists. As for the others, they were cool players
themselves, but here they had met their master. It was the difference
between the amateur and the professional. They played good chancey
poker, but the man in the linen coat did more--he stacked the cards!

For the first moment Donnegan was not sure; it was not until there was a
slight faltering in the deal--an infinitely small hesitation which only
a practiced eye like that of Donnegan's could have noticed--that he was
sure. The winner was crooked. Yet the hand was interesting for all that.
He had done the master trick, not only giving himself the winning hand
but also giving each of the others a fine set of cards.

And the betting was wild on that historic pot! To begin with the
smallest hand was three of a kind; and after the draw the weakest was a
straight. And they bet furiously. The stranger had piqued them with his
consistent victories. Now they were out for blood. Chips having been
exhausted, solid gold was piled up on the table--a small fortune!

The man in the linen coat, in the middle of the hand, called for drinks.
They drank. They went on with the betting. And then at last came the
call.

Donnegan could have clapped his hands to applaud the smooth rascal. It
was not an affair of breaking the others who sat in. They were all
prosperous mine owners, and probably they had been carefully selected
according to the size of purse, in preparation for the sacrifice. But
the stakes