“‘And I’ll go you a thousand better,’ exclaimed the other. He was getting excited, but nobody dared to speak. It was a serious matter to interfere in a game like that.
“‘A thousand better,’ was the response.
“Gilmartin hesitated. He looked at his cards and thought for a moment. Then he counted his money.
“‘I’ll have to call you,’ he said finally, ‘for I’ve only got twelve hundred left.’
“Martin’s face was perfectly impassive. He, too, hesitated a moment, and then he spoke.
“‘I’ll put up five thousand more, if you want to play for it,’ he said.
“‘But how can I? I tell you I haven’t any more money,’ said Gilmartin, looking puzzled.
“‘If you will give me your promise to go as far south as St. Louis for sixty days, and tell nobody that you are going, I’ll take that as an equivalent for the five thousand,’ said Martin very slowly and distinctly.
“Gilmartin flushed. He knew that everybody in the room understood the proposition. He was asked to sell out his honor, for going away in that fashion meant betraying his employer and running away with his money, as well as leaving him in the lurch. I expected to hear an indignant outburst of invective and abuse, and indeed the man was about to speak when another thought seemed to strike him, and he grew deathly white. The gambling fever had seized him, and he looked at his cards again.
“While he was hesitating Martin spoke again, and the devilish coolness of his speech made me shudder.