What with the music, the stamp of the dancers, the clink of glasses and the ice in pitchers, the rattle of dice, the slap of cards and currency, the announcements of the dealers, the clap-trap of barkers and monte spielers, the general chatter of voices, one 106 such as I, a newcomer, scarcely knew which way to turn.
Altogether this was an amusement palace which, though rough of exterior, eclipsed the best of the Bowery and might be found elsewhere, I imagined, not short of San Francisco.
From the jostle of the doorway to pick out upon the floor any single figure and follow it was well-nigh impossible. Not seeing my Lady in Black, at first sight—not being certain of her, that is, for there were a number of black dresses—I moved on in. It might be that she was among the dancers, where, as I could determine by the vista, beauty appeared to be whirling around in the embrace of the whiskered beast.
Then, as I advanced resolutely among the gaming tables, I felt a cuff upon the shoulder and heard a bluff voice in my ear.
“Hello, old hoss. How are tricks by this time?”
Facing about quickly with apprehension of having been spotted by another capper, if not Bill Brady himself (for the voice was not Colonel Sunderson’s unctuous tones) I saw Jim of the Sidney station platform and the railway coach fracas.
He was grinning affably, apparently none the worse for wear save a slightly swollen lower lip; he seemed in good humor.
“Shake,” he proffered, extending his hand. “No 107 hard feelin’s here. I’m no Injun. You knocked the red-eye out o’ me.”
I shook hands with him, and again he slapped me upon the shoulder. “Hardly knowed you in that new rig. Now you’re talkin’. That’s sense. Well; how you comin’ on?”
“First rate,” I assured, not a little nonplussed by this greeting from a man whom I had knocked down, tipsy drunk, only a few hours before. But evidently he was a seasoned customer.