"You miserable little welcher! That ring is worth a hundred and forty."
"You'll never get your dirty fingers inside of that."
"Oh, I shan't, eh?"
Warrington heard a scuffling, which was presently followed by a low choking sob. He did not know who occupied the adjoining room. He had been away for weeks, and there had been no permanent boarders before that time. He rushed fearlessly into the other room. Pinned to the wall was a young man with a weak pale face. The other man presented nothing more than the back of his broad muscular shoulders. The disparity in weight and height was sufficient to rouse Warrington's sense of fair play. Besides, he was in a rough mood himself.
"Here, that'll do," he cried, seizing the heavier man by the collar. "It isn't worth while to kill a man for a handful of rupees. Let go, you fool!"
He used his strength. The man and his victim swung in a half-circle and crashed to the floor.
With a snarl and an oath, the gambler sprung to his feet and started toward Warrington. He stopped short.
"Good God!" he murmured; and retreated until he touched the foot-board of the bed.