So McTurpin had come back.
He had been about to ask for further details when one of the hurrying workmen called his informant away. After all it did not matter much just how or when the gambler had returned. They were sure to meet sooner or later. Once more Windham's hand unconsciously sought the pistol in his pocket. At the entrance of the Bella Union he halted, shook the rain from his hat, scraped the mud from his feet upon a pile of gunnysacks which served as doormats, and went into the brilliant room. Since the temporary closing of the Eldorado, this place had become the most elegant and crowded of the city's gaming palaces. A mahogany bar extended the length of the building; huge hanging lamps surrounded by ornate clusters of prisms lent an air of jeweled splendor which the large mirrors and pyramids of polished glasses back of the counter enhanced. On a platform at the rear were several Mexican musicians in rich native costumes twanging gaily upon guitars and mandolins. Now and then one of them sang, or a Spanish dancer pirouetted, clicking her castanets and casting languishing glances at the ring of auditors about her. These performers were invariably showered with coins. Tables of all sizes filled the center of the room from the long roulette board to the little round ones where drinks were served. Faro, monte, roulette, rouge et noir, vingt-un, chuck-a-luck and poker: each found its disciples; now and then a man went quietly out and another took his place; there was nothing to indicate that he had lost perhaps thousands of dollars, the "clean-up" of a summer of hardships at the mines. A bushy bearded miner boasted that he had won $40,000 and lost it again in an hour and a half. Henry Mellus offered him work as a teamster and the other accepted.
"Easy come, easy go," he commented philosophically and, lighting his pipe from one of the sticks of burning punk placed at intervals along the bar, he went out.
In an out-of-the-way corner, where the evening's noise and activity ebbed and flowed a little more remotely, Benito discovered Broderick chewing an unlighted cigar and discussing the probabilities of election with John Geary. They hailed him cordially, but in a little while Geary drifted off to learn further news of the polls.
"And how is the charming Mrs. Windham?" asked Broderick.
"Well and happy, thank you," said Benito. "She loves the old place. Cannot you dine with us there tonight?"
"With real pleasure," Broderick returned. "In this raw, boisterous place a chance to enjoy a bit of home life, to talk with a high-bred woman is more precious than gold."
Benito bowed. "It is not often that we have a Senator for a guest," he returned, smiling.
Broderick placed a hand upon his shoulder almost paternally. "I hope that is prophetic, Benito," he said. "I'm strangely serious about it. This town has taken hold of me--your San Francisco."
They turned to greet Sam Brannan, now a candidate for the ayuntamiento or town council. "How goes it, Sam?" asked Broderick.