As I passed he hailed me gayly.
“Don't scold, now,” he laughed; “you know I can't keep away from it.”
From his manner those at the table might have supposed we were friends of long and happy companionship. I stopped behind his chair, but he thought I had passed, and in reply to one of the players answered: “Known him for years; he's set me right many a time. When I broke my right femur 'chasin,' he got me back in the saddle in six weeks. All my people swear by him.”
One of the players smiled up at me, and Talbot turned. But his eyes met mine with perfect serenity. He even held up his cards for me to see. “What would you draw?” he asked.
His audacity so astonished me that in silence I could only stare at him and walk on.
When on deck he met me he was not even apologetic. Instead, as though we were partners in crime, he chuckled delightedly.
“Sorry,” he said. “Had to do it. They weren't very keen at my taking a hand, so I had to use your name. But I'm all right now,” he assured me. “They think you vouched for me, and to-night they're going to raise the limit. I've convinced them I'm an easy mark.”
“And I take it you are not,” I said stiffly.
He considered this unworthy of an answer and only smiled. Then the smile died, and again in his eyes I saw distress, infinite weariness, and fear.
As though his thoughts drove him to seek protection, he came closer.