The game continued, with fluctuations of luck which were usually in the digger’s favour.
But the rattling of the dice had attracted attention in the bar, and, lured by that illusive music, four men approached the room where the gamblers sat.
“No intrusion, I hope,” said the leader of the gang, pushing open the door.
“Come in, come in,” cried Tresco, barely glancing at the newcomers, so intent was he on the game.
They entered, and stood round the table: an ugly quartette. The man who had spoken was short, thick-set, with a bullet head which was bald on the top, mutton-chop whiskers, and a big lump under his left ear. The second was a neat, handsome man, with black, glittering eyes, over which the lids drooped shrewdly. The third was a young fellow with a weak face, a long, thin neck and sloping shoulders; and the fourth, a clean-shaven man of heavy build, possessed a face that would have looked at home on the shoulders of a convict. He answered to the name of Garstang.
“Dolphin,” said he to the man with the lump, “cut in.”
“No, no; let it be Carnac,” said Dolphin, looking at the keen-eyed man, who replied, “I pass it on to young William.”
“Gor’ bli’ me, why to me?” exclaimed the stripling. “I never strike any luck. I hand the chanst back to you, Carny.”
The man with the shrewd eyes sat down at the table, on which he first placed some money. Then he said in a clear, pleasant voice:
“You’ve no objection, I suppose, to a stranger joining you?”