"I sure do."
Brockton turned to Laura, who stood listening, rather uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking.
"Laura," he said quietly, "run into the house and see if Mrs. Williams has won another quarter. Madison and I are going to smoke a cigar and have a friendly chat. When we get through, I think we'll both feel better."
She looked at him anxiously. Fearfully she asked:
"You are sure that everything will be all right?"
"Sure," he said smilingly.
She looked at Madison, as if for reassurance. He nodded and she went towards the house. When she had disappeared, Brockton held out a handsomely engraved gold cigar case.
"Have a cigar?" he said cordially, as if to make things as amicable as possible.
"No—I'll smoke my own," replied Madison coldly.
The men sat down and there was a short silence, during which they lit and puffed at their cigars. It was now pitch dark outside, and the brilliant illuminations in the interior of the house only served to intensify the almost opaque blackness of the grounds. Nothing could be seen but the glow of each man's cigar, as he puffed it silently. The broker broke the long pause.