ringing and near at hand; the angry
hum of brawling men; and strangest of all this dreadful roar were
the high-pitched, piercing voices of women, in songs without soul, in
laughter without mirth, in cries wild and terrible and mournful.

Allie lay in the dark, praying for the dawn, shuddering at this strife
of sound, fearful that any moment the violence of Benton would burst
through the flimsy walls of her room to destroy her. But the roar
swelled and subsided and died away; the darkness gave place to gray
light and then dawn; the sun arose, the wind began to blow. Now Benton
slept, the sleep of sheer exhaustion.

Her mirror told Allie the horror of that night. Her face was white; her
eyes were haunted by terrors, with great dark shadows beneath. She could
not hold her hands steady.

Late that afternoon there were stirrings and sounds in Durade's hall.
The place had awakened. Presently Durade himself brought her food and
drink. He looked haggard, worn, yet radiant. He did not seem to note
Allie's condition or appearance.

"That deaf and dumb fool who waited on you is gone," said Durade.
"Yesterday was pay-day in Benton... Many are gone... Allie, I won fifty
thousand dollars in gold!"

"Isn't that enough?" she asked.

He did not hear her, but went on talking of his winnings, of gold, of
games, and of big stakes coming. His lips trembled, his eyes glittered,
his fingers clawed at the air.

For Allie it was a relief when Durade left her. He had almost reached
the apex of his fortunes and the inevitable end. Allie realized that if
she were ever to lift a hand to save herself she must do so at once.

This was a fixed and desperate thought in her mind when Durade called
her to her work.

Allie always entered that private den of Durade's with eyes cast down.
She had been scorched too often by the glances of men. As she went in
this time she felt the presence of gamblers, but they were quieter than
those to whom she had become accustomed. Durade ordered her to fetch
drinks, then he went on talking, rapidly, in excitement, elated,
boastful, almost gay.

Allie did not look up. As she carried the tray to the large table she
heard a man whisper low: "By jove!... Hough, that's the girl!"

Then she heard a slight, quick intake of breath, and the exclamation,
"Good God!"

Both voices thrilled Allie. The former seemed the low, well-modulated,
refined, and drawling speech of an Englishman; the latter was keen,
quick, sof