Rayton shook his head. "Not this time, Nash, if you don't mind," he replied quietly. "I want to take cards."
"That's easily managed," persisted the doctor. "I want cards, too; but we can lay our discards aside and show them later. Come, be a sport! Thought all Englishmen were sports."
Rayton hesitated, flushing.
"Right-o!" he said. "But I'll not be what you call a sport on one dollar! Twenty-five is my bet, Nash—even money. Come! How does that suit you?"
"It doesn't suit me at all—thanks just the same," returned the doctor sullenly.
"Perhaps you'll leave the English sporting instinct alone, after this," said Mr. Banks.
"For Heaven's sake, get on with the game!" cried old Wigmore.
All "came in" and took cards. Rayton asked for two, and though he did not bet, he kept the five cards in his hand. Wigmore took the money, this time.
"Supper," said the Englishman quickly, and gathered up all the cards with swift hands, his own included. He entered the kitchen quickly, and they heard him clattering about the stove.
After supper the game went on, with another fresh pack of cards. They had been playing for about a quarter of an hour when Captain Wigmore suddenly began to chuckle.