Dennis obligingly took the cards, threw them, and lost. By this time the men, augmented by the idlers not busy with the card games, had drawn close.
“Sail into 'em, bub,” encouraged one.
Whether it was that the gamblers, expert in the reading of a man's mood and intentions, sensed the fact that Orde might be led to plunge, or whether, more simply, they were using him as a capper to draw the crowd into their game, it would be difficult to say, but twice more they bungled the throw and permitted him to win.
Newmark plucked him at the sleeve.
“You're twenty dollars ahead,” he muttered. “Quit it! I never saw anybody beat this game that much before.”
Orde merely shrugged him off with an appearance of growing excitement, while an HABITUE of the place, probably one of the hired fighters, growled into Newmark's ear.
“Shut up, you damn dude!” warned this man. “Keep out of what ain't none of your business.”
“What limit do you put on this game, anyway?” Orde leaned forward, his eyes alight.
The two gamblers spoke swiftly apart.
“How much do you want to bet?” asked one.