'I know that his face never wears an expression of manly truth—for truth isn't in him!' said Falconer.
'The fellow is a downright cad, I understand,' said Fotheringhame; 'he will go to the devil with the down-train, and never know how to put on the brakes. Why were you fool enough to play with a stranger?'
'And lose?' said Acharn, twisting his thick black moustache.
'By all accounts it would be a miracle if you won.'
'He has promised me my revenge to-morrow.'
'At what game was it you lost £500?' asked Fotheringhame.
'At roulette, piquet, and écarté; but most at écarté.'
'By Jove! I should think so,' said Falconer, remembering Hew's 'mild play.' 'Why didn't you look under the table?' he asked in a low voice.
'For what?' exclaimed Acharn, with surprise.
'The cards he was dropping unknown to you.'