s."

J. Rufus elevated his eyebrows a trifle, but smiled. Inwardly he felt
perfectly competent to protect himself.

"Fine business," he assented. "Suppose we have dinner in my rooms. I'm
beginning to get them educated at my hotel."

At the hotel he stopped for a moment at the curb to give his chauffeur
some instructions, while the other four awaited him on the steps.

"How'd you come to fall for this stud game, Larry?" inquired Phelps.
"I can't see poker merely for health, and this Willy Wisdom won't call
any raise of over two dollars when he's playing with us."

"I know he won't," snapped Larry, setting his jaws savagely, "but
we're going to get his money just the same. Billy, you break away and
run down to Joe's drug-store for the K.O."

They all grinned, with the light of admiration dawning in their eyes
for Larry Teller. "K.O." was cipher for "knock-out drops," a pleasant
little decoction guaranteed to put a victim into fathomless slumber,
but not to kill him if his heart was right.

"How long will it be until dinner's ready, Wallingford?" asked Billy,
looking at his watch as J. Rufus came up.

"Oh, about an hour, I suppose."

"Good," said Billy. "I'll just have time. I have to go get some money
that a fellow promised me, and if I don't see him to-night I may not
see him at all. Besides, I'll probably need it if you play your usual
game."

"Nothing doing," replied Wallingford. "I only want to yammer you
fellows out of a hundred apiece, and the game will be as quiet as a
peddler's pup."

J. Rufus conducted the others into the sitting-room of his suite and
sent for a waiter. There was never any point lacking in Wallingford's
hospitality, and by the time Billy came back he was ready to serve
them a dinner that was worth discussing. The dinner despatched, he had
the table cleared and brought out cards and chips. It was a quiet,
comfortable game for nearly an hour, with very mild betting and plenty
to drink. It was during the fifth bottle of wine, dating from the
beginning of the dinner, that Short-Card Larry, by a dexterous
accident, pitched Wallingford's stack of chips on the floor with a
toss of the deck. Amid the profuse apologies of Larry, Mr. Phelps, who
was at Wallingford's left, stooped down to help that gentleman pick up
his chips, and in that moment Badger Billy quietly emptied the
colorless contents of a tiny vial in Wallingford's glass. J. Rufus
never was able to remember what happened after tha