ive years older.

"I am David," he said, without offering his hand.

"I," said the gambler, "am Benjamin."

There was a flash that might have been either pleasure or suspicion in
the face of David.

"Joseph has told me what has passed between you," he said.

"I hope he's broken no law by letting me come in."

"My will is the law; in disregarding me he has broken a law."

He made a sign above his shoulder that brought Joseph hurrying out of
the gloom, his keen little eyes fastened upon the face of the master
with intolerable anxiety. There was another sign from David, and Joseph,
without a glance at Connor, snatched the ivory head out of his pocket,
thrust it upon the table, and stood back, watching the brown man with
fascination.

"You see," went on David, "that he returns to you the price which you
paid him. Therefore you have no longer a right to remain in the Garden
of Eden."

Connor flushed. "If this were a price," he answered, clinging as closely
as he could to language as simple and direct as that of David, "it could
be returned to me. But it is not a price. It is a gift, and gifts cannot
be returned."

He held out the ape-head, and when Joseph could see nothing save the
face of David, he pushed the trinket back toward the huge man.

"Then," said the brown man, "the fault which was small before is now
grown large."

He looked calmly upon Joseph, and the giant quailed. By the table hung a
gong on which the master tapped; one of the ancient servants appeared
instantly.

"Go to my room," said David, "and bring me the largest nugget from the
chest."

The old man disappeared, and while they waited for his return the little
bright eyes of Joseph went to and fro on the face of the master; but
David was staring into the darkness of the patio. The servant brought a
nugget of gold, as large as the doubled fist of a child, and the master
rolled it across the table to Connor.

A tenseness about his mouth told the gambler that much was staked on
this acceptance. He turned the nugget in his hand, noting the
discoloration of the ore from which it had been taken.

"It is a fine specimen," he said.

"You will see," said David, "both its size and weight."

And Connor knew; it was an exchange for the ivory head. He laid the
nugget carelessly back upon the table, thankful that the gift had been
offered with such suspicious bluntness.

"It is a fine specimen," he repeated, "but I am not collecting."

There w