"Then why didn't you follow my orders?"
"Because I couldn't. It was here that I took the first downward step, and to-night I have taken the last."
The gambler regarded him curiously.
"Clarence Holt," he said, "have you been drinking?"
"Not a drop; but it is time I did. My lips are parched and dry. I am on fire, brain and body. Is this a foretaste of the hereafter in store for me?"
"Weak-minded fool!" cried Dan.
"Yes, I was weak-minded to trust you. I was a fool to listen to your rose-colored stories about fortunes made at a faro-bank."
"Come, come! no kicking."
During this conversation Mr. Smith was leaning against the wall, half concealed in the shadow, and smoking a cigar, while he was ostensibly engaged in jotting down some memoranda with a pencil on a scrap of paper, yet not a word was lost upon him.
"You can bully me as much as you please, Dan Markham!" exclaimed Clarence Holt. "But I warn you that I am getting tired of it."