“No man ever pets a hornet but once,” said Billy, the only one sturdy enough to voice his discomfiture.
Wallingford beamed over this tribute to his prowess.
“Well, you get a split of it, anyhow,” he offered. “I’ll take you all to dinner, then afterward we’ll have a little game of stud poker if you like—with police interference barred.”
They were about to decline this kind invitation when Short-Card Larry turned suddenly to him, with a gleam of the teeth which was almost a snarl.
“We’ll take you,” he said. “Just a little friendly game for small stakes.”
J. Rufus elevated his eyebrows a trifle, but smiled. Inwardly he felt perfectly competent to protect himself.
“Fine business,” he assented. “Suppose we have dinner in my rooms. I’m beginning to get them educated at my hotel.”
At the hotel he stopped for a moment at the curb to give his chauffeur some instructions, while the other four awaited him on the steps.
“How’d you come to fall for this stud game, Larry?” inquired Phelps. “I can’t see poker merely for health, and this Willy Wisdom won’t call any raise of over two dollars when he’s playing with us.”