Nick was entirely correct as to Kendall’s intentions, and, recalling Gilsey’s instructions, he saw no occasion to go beyond them. He was thinking, too, of Dora Royal, of the promise he had made her, and of what Flood that night had done, believing it to be for her sake. Now, feeling sure of his man, Nick would not for the world have perverted the design and desires of Moses Flood.
The latter again appeared upon the scene while Nick was speaking, and at the same moment the sound of a heavy fall started all hearers. It was almost immediately followed by a maudlin laugh, and the man who had been so long sleeping on the couch was seen rising unsteadily from the floor beside it.
“Ha, ha! I reckon I fell out of bed,” he cried, in half-drunken tones, as he gained his feet and stared with dazed eyes toward the group of players at the table.
Though nearly twenty-three Harry Royal looked to be little more than a youth. When sober, he was a handsome fellow, yet his features indicated a weak and yielding nature, and he was no sooner loosed from the restrictions of his home life to attend college than he proved an easy victim to the temptations which had brought him to his present condition.
“How are they coming, Kendall?” he continued, swaying unsteadily and failing to observe that his friend had departed. “Are you winning our expenses? Have you——”
Then he caught sight of Flood approaching, and he reeled toward him with extended hand, crying boisterously:
“Hello, Mose, old man! Glad to see you, on my word I am.”
“And I am sorry to see you, Royal, in this condition,” Flood gravely rejoined.
“Faugh! Cut that out, Mose,” cried Royal, flushing slightly and shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs. “It’s only now and then, old man. We are just back from Beantown, Kendall and I, and winding up a devil’s own racket.”
“So it appears.”