"I have friends in the box," replied Kimberlin, "and we want to drink quietly and without interruption. We are in Number 7."
"Oh, beg pardon. That's all right," said the man.
Kimberlin's step was very much stronger and steadier as he returned with the liquor. He opened the door of the booth. The stranger sat at the side of the little table, staring at the opposite wall just as he had stared across the street. He wore a wide-brimmed, slouch hat, drawn well down. It was only after Kimberlin had set the bottle, pitcher, and glasses on the table, and seated himself opposite the stranger and within his range of vision, that the pale man noticed him.
"Oh! you have brought it? How kind of you! Now please lock the door."
Kimberlin had slipped the change into his pocket, and was in the act of bringing it out when the stranger said,—
"Keep the change. You will need it, for I am going to get it back in a way that may interest you. Let us first drink, and then I will explain."
The pale man mixed two drinks of absinthe and water, and the two drank. Kimberlin, unsophisticated, had never tasted the liquor before, and he found it harsh and offensive; but no sooner had it reached his stomach than it began to warm him, and sent the most delicious thrill through his frame.
"It will do us good," said the stranger; "presently we shall have more. Meanwhile, do you know how to throw dice?"
Kimberlin weakly confessed that he did not.
"I thought not. Well, please go to the bar and bring a dice-box. I would ring for it, but I don't want the waiters to be coming in."