It was about ten o'clock when Mr. Skinner—having sipped his glass of hot gin and water bid his hostess an affectionate adieu, and turned his steps homewards.
When he reached his own gate he exchanged a quiet greeting with two men, who were evidently waiting for him.
Then all three went softly round to the back of the house, and entered it by the door through which Bet and little Miss Joy had gone in that afternoon.
Mr. Skinner opened the door with a latch-key, and all three men passed silently into the little room with the big table, covered with the green cloth—the table which little Joy had said looked too big for the room.
"Well," one of the men said, "'Fortune favours the brave.' I am in for luck to-night. What have you got to drink? I dare say there's a bottle of rum in the cupboard, eh?"
"Well," Mr. Skinner said, "I don't drink anything myself. So, no doubt, what you left is to be had."
"Ah, ha! ah, ha!" laughed the other man. "You don't drink at your own expense; is that it? The old lady in the row finds you in toddy."
"Shut up!" said the elder of the two men; "don't talk all night, but let us to business."
Then two packs of cards were produced with the black bottle, and very soon the game began.
Ah me! that ruinous game, which so many, I fear, play, and thereby lose all sense of honour and right. Who shall say how long is the list of broken hearts for which gambling is responsible?