"Um—shooting's an evil, but sometimes—necessary. What's his racket?"
The girl told her story quickly. She forgot nothing. She never allowed herself to fall into the womanly mistake of omitting details, however small.
Bill fully appreciated her cleverness in this direction. He could trust what she said implicitly. At the conclusion of the story he sat up and rolled another cigarette.
"And your uncle is upstairs in bed?"
"Yes, when he wakes I guess he'll need a bracer. He'll be sober. He must play. Lablache means to win."
"Yes, he means to win. He has had a bad scare."
"What are we going to do?"
The girl eyed her lover keenly. She saw by his manner that he was thinking rapidly.
"The game must be interrupted—with another scare."
"What?"