"Yes, or a little from both," added Driscoll, dryly.

CHAPTER XX. AN EVENING WITH GROG DAVIS.

It was late at night, and Grog Davis sat alone by a solitary candle in
his dreary room. The fire had long burned out, and great pools of wet,
driven by the beating rain through the rickety sashes, soaked the ragged
carpet that covered the floor, while frequent gusts of storm scattered
the slates, and shook the foundations of the frail building.

To all seeming, he paid little attention to the poor and comfortless
features of the spot. A short square bottle of Hollands, and a paper
of coarse cigars beside him, seemed to offer sufficient defence against
such cares, while he gave up his mind to some intricate problem which he
was working out with a pack of cards. He dealt, and shuffled, and dealt
again, with marvellous rapidity. There was that in each motion of
the wrist, in every movement of the finger, that bespoke practised
manipulation, and a glance quick as lightning on the board was enough to
show him how the game fared.

[Illustration: 230]

"Passed twelve times," muttered he to himself; then added aloud, "Make
your game, gentlemen, make your game. The game is made. Red, thirty-two.
Now for it, Grog,--man or a mouse, my boy. Mouse it is! by----," cried
he, with an infamous oath. "Red wins! Confound the cards!" cried he,
dashing them on the floor. "Two minutes ago I had enough to live on the
rest of my days. I appeal to any man in the room," said he, with a look
of peculiar defiance around him, "if he ever saw such ill luck! There''s
not another fellow breathing ever got it like me!" And as he spoke, he
arose and walked up and down the chamber, frowning savagely, and turning
glances of insolent meaning on every side of him. At last, approaching
the table, he filled out a glass of gin and drank it off; and then,
stooping down, he gathered up the cards and reseated himself. "Take you
fifty on the first ace," cried he, addressing an imaginary bettor, while
he began to deal out the cards in two separate heaps. "Won!" exclaimed
he, delightedly. "Go you double or quits, sir?--Any gentleman with
another fifty?--A pony if you like, sir?--Done! Won again, by jingo!
This is the only game, after all; decided in a second. I make the bank,
gentlemen, two hundred in the bank. Why, where are the bettors
this evening? This is only punting, gentlemen. Any one say five
hundred--four--three--one hundred--for the first knave?" And th