“What horses are there in the stables?”
“Oh, Daisy, an’ Denver Bay, an’ a whole lot of ’em.”
“Can you get away about dark?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, show yourself in the road there just below the house about dusk, and I’ll pick you up in a carriage. Will you come?”
“You bet I’ll come. Dat man would ’a’ killed me if it hadn’t been for you.”
“I’m making up now for last night’s bad luck,” thought Nick, as he turned around with an insipid stare and in a drawl asked the bystanders to join him in a drink.
As he turned away from the bar a moment later he noticed a well-dressed man entering the front door and hastening directly up-stairs, as though desirous of remaining unnoticed.
The man was Brower, with whom Nick had, in the disguise of a business man, made the ten-thousand dollar bet the night before.