nough to call for special treatment, were yet indicative of hidden
mischief.

His gambling experiences had given him the ready tact, by a mere glance
around the table, to recognize those with whom the real struggle
should be waged; to detect, in a second, the deep head, the crafty
intelligence, that marvellous blending of caution with rashness that
make the gamester; and in the same spirit be now turned over in thought
each of those with whom he was now about to contend, and muttered
the name of Davenport Dunn over and over. "Could we only 'hit it off'
together, what a game might we not play!" was his last reflection ere he
fell off to sleep.

CHAPTER VII. A DISCURSIVE CONVERSATION

Davis was surprised, and something more, as he entered the
breakfast-room the next morning to find the Rev. Paul Classon already
seated at the table, calmly arranging certain little parallelograms of
bread-and-butter and sardines. No signs of discomfiture or shame showed
themselves in that calmly benevolent countenance. Indeed, as he arose
and extended his hand there was an air of bland protection in the
gesture perfectly soothing.

"You came back in a pretty state last night," said Davis, roughly.

"Overtaken, Kit,--overtaken. It was a piece of good news rather than the
grape juice did the mischief. As the poet says,--

"'Good tidings flowed upon his heart
Like a sea o'er a barren shore,
And the pleasant waves refreshed the spot
So parched and bleak before.'

"The fact is, Kit, you brought me luck. Just as I reached the
Post-Office, I saw a letter addressed to the Rev. Paul Classon,
announcing that I had been accepted as Chaplain to the great Hydropathic
Institution at Como! and, to commemorate the event, I celebrated in wine
the triumphs of water! You got the letters all safely?"

"Little thanks to you if I did; nor am I yet certain how many may have
dropped out on the road."

"Stay,--I have a memorandum here," said Paul, opening his little
note-book. "Four, with London post-marks, to Captain Christopher;
two from Brussels for the same; a large packet for the Hon. Annesley
Beecher. That's the whole list."

"I got these!" said Grog, gruffly; "but why, might I ask, could you not
have kept sober till you got back here?"

"He who dashes his enthusiasm with caution, waters the liquor of life.
How do we soar above the common ills of existence save by yielding to
those glorious impulses of the he