"The devil he does!" mused Captain Murray. "That looks bad for him. And yet, sir, I'd sooner trust Urquhart than Mackenzie, and if the case lies against Urquhart—"
"It will assuredly break him," I put in, "unless he can prove the charge, or that he was honestly mistaken."
"Then, sir," said the Captain, "I'll have to show you this. It's ugly, but it's only justice."
He pulled a sovereign from his pocket and pushed it on the writing-table under my nose.
"What does this mean?"
"It is a marked one," said he.
"So I perceive." I had picked up the coin and was examining it.
"I found it just now," he continued, "in the room below. The upsetting of the table had scattered Mackenzie's stakes about the floor."
"You seem to have a pretty notion of evidence," I observed sharply.
"I don't know what accusation this coin may carry; but why need it be
Mackenzie's? He might have won it from Urquhart."
"I thought of that," was the answer. "But no money had changed hands. I enquired. The quarrel arose over the second deal, and as a matter of fact Urquhart had laid no money on the table, but made a pencil-note of a few shillings he lost by the first hand. You may remember, sir, how the table stood when you entered."