He took a hand in the game.
His first victim was a woolly-headed half-breed, who came from the diggings with a well-lined belt. Half an hour later he had lost the lot. He swore, for that matter, that he had been robbed, and the quarrel was about to lead to blows, for two other diggers had come in and taken sides against the Parisian, when Señor Sanda stepped between them and declared that he only allowed gentlemen who were above suspicion to enter his place. Sanda exercised absolute authority. He could expel from his gaming club anyone who failed to meet his approval without having to consult any committee of management.
The Parisian, in the manner of a great aristocrat, at once ordered the most expensive drinks and invited everyone to have a drink with him, paying a large sum in advance to Señor Sanda without moving a muscle of his face. Then the Parisian, as he had foreseen, was favored with Sanda's smile, and the sound of the dear man's voice was as pleasant to hear as the gold dust was pleasant to look upon.
The Burglar, the Caid and the Joker joined them and took part, as may well be imagined, in the general carouse.
"I've unloosened the tongue of the pub-keeper," said the Parisian. "We must try to make the most of it."
The Parisian poured the gold dust which he had won into his wide-brimmed felt hat, and letting it run through his fingers, said to Sanda:
"Poor beggars! I've probably taken the result of six months' work away from them."
"Oh, not many of them make their fortunes in the diggings apart from a few Indians who discover a real vein and hide themselves from Europeans as though they were the plague . . ." returned Sanda. "See that man passing over there?"
"Where?"
"Opposite the bar. . . . That's a celebrated magician. He knows where the gold is, does that man. . . . He's called Yoyo."