Walter had no scruples about playing an innocent game of whist. So he sat down with the others.
The game went on rather languidly until, all at once, the fat man broke out, without taking his eyes off his cards, "Bless me!—why, the strangest thing!—if I were a betting man, I declare I wouldn't mind risking a trifle on this hand."
Ramon laughed good-naturedly, as he replied in an offhand sort of way: "Oh, we're all friends here. There's no objection to a little social game, I suppose, among friends." Here he stole an inquiring look at Walter. "Besides," he continued, while carelessly glancing at his own hand, "I've a good mind to bet a trifle myself."
Though still quite unsuspicious, Walter looked upon this interruption of the harmless game with misgiving.
"All right," Goodman resumed, "here goes a dollar, just for the fun of the thing."
The taciturn Lambkin said not a word, but taking out a well-stuffed wallet, quietly laid down two dollars on the one that Goodman had just put up.
"I know I can beat them," Ramon whispered in Walter's ear. "By Jove, I'll risk it just this once!"
"No, don't," Walter whispered back, pleadingly, "it's gambling."
"Pshaw, man, it's only for sport," Ramon impatiently rejoined, immediately adding five dollars of his own money to the three before him.
Walter laid down his cards, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms resolutely across his chest. "And the fat man said he hardly knew one card from another. How quick some folks do learn," he said to himself.