ver have found it
tempting in the criminal way (though, if he had given his mind to
the consideration, he could at any time have seen how enviable its
unencumbered possessor might be) if he had not at the moment felt
himself under considerable pressure. Mr. Barter's fleshy and well-formed
fingers were somewhat too familiar with the feel of cards. These fingers
of his were peculiarly dexterous to look at, and had even an unnecessary
braggadocio air of dexterity when he was engaged in his favourite
occupation. Experienced people watched his shuffling and dealing with
great care. In Mr. Barter's frank and engaging countenance, and in that
ready smile in which the faultless teeth shone so conspicuously, there
was no hint of danger to the most unwary. Even the wariest, listening
to his genial mellow laughter, and seeing the jolly shoulders shake with
mirth, were inclined to think him a loyal honest-hearted fellow. His
loud swagger, his frank rollicking gait, his hail-good-fellow-well-met
shake of the hand, the other hand clapped upon the shoulder, the noisy
greeting, and that unfailing smile, not merely disarmed suspicion, but
made the mere fancy of it impossibly absurd. But young Mr. Barter had
accustomed himself to associate with people whose experiences had forced
them to be observant, and to these the dexterous caressing fingers with
which he manipulated all instruments employed in games of chance seemed
to justify a fairly constant watchfulness. The fingers handled the cards
as if they loved them, as if they had been accustomed to them from the
cradle. The tips turned back a good deal, and the nails hooked a little
forward. There were little bulbs of tact at every tip, the hands were
made for a gambler, and could by no possibility have belonged to anybody
else.

The chief ground for the young man's sorrow may be very easily and
briefly stated. The packet which the unfortunate cruelly-tempted
Bommaney had let fall in his half-drunken abstraction on the floor of
young Mr. Barter's private room was made up exclusively, as we know
already, of notes for one hundred pounds.

Now Bank of England notes for one hundred pounds, though valuable, and
easily enough employed in all civilised countries when honestly come by,
are only to be got rid of when dishonestly acquired at great risk and
loss. A note for a mere five pounds may pass through scores of hands
before being stopped at the bank. Tens, so the experienced in such
matte