“Yes.”
“Did not that cure him of his superstition?”
“Hardly. He carried it to death. He claimed that he lost because at the proper time he failed to do the proper thing in connection with the stick.”
“But why did he kill himself? With such a marvelous talisman in his possession, he should have believed himself able to regain all he had lost.”
“Not all. Money he might have regained, and he knew it, but not his wife. When he lost his wealth he lost her, also. She was young and beautiful, but heartless. She loved a man for what he could give her. When my friend lost his last dollar over the table, he had her near him. He looked into her eyes, and saw anger and disgust there. He knew she hated and despised him for losing his money. He also knew she had been greatly admired by the Prince of Monaco.
“Then he resolved to make one last stand. He spoke to the prince, called him aside, offered to stake his wife against a sum equal to one hundred thousand dollars. The prince quietly accepted. The cast was made, and again my friend lost. Perhaps that was the real reason why he put a bullet in his head. Before he died he gave me this stick, and told me all about it—that is, he told me all he knew about it. Not everything can be known by a person outside the mysterious order to which it belongs. I have heard that not everything can be known in the order, save to a very few high priests. But every member of the order is sworn to protect and guard the stick with his life, and they believe a failure to do so means ever-lasting torture for the one who fails.”
“That explains the queer actions of the two Chinamen,” said Merry.
“And makes me dead sure they were reaching for weapons when their hands went under their coats,” nodded Starbright.
“I was watching their every move,” asserted the stranger. “I feared they would attack you with knives, and I was ready to chip in if they did.”
“But if they did not——”