“What kind of mess?”
“Debt.”
“Debt! What for?”
“Card-playing,” answered Tod, shortly. “And betting at pool.”
“Why do you play?”
“I’ll be shot if I would ever have touched one of their cards, or their billiard balls either, had I known what was to come of it. Let me once get out of this hole, and neither Gusty Pell nor Crayton shall ever draw me in again. I’ll promise them that.”
“How much is it?”
“That I owe? Twenty-five pounds.”
“Twenty-five—what?” I cried, starting up.