"Ah, then, it is not too late for you to withdraw. The ceremonies are trying. I myself am only a neophyte of low degree. Perhaps, being a student of character, you have observed as much from my appearance?"
"I should have known that you had not lost a fortune this evening, at least."
"There is one simple rule to escape that."
"Not to bring one here?"
"Precisely."
Shagarach had indeed been contrasting Faught with the other habitues, most of them men of fashion, still young in years, but middle-aged in the lines of their faces. Several beardless youths appeared to be college students. Two or three wore the style of confidential bookkeepers or bank cashiers. As many more were flush-faced veterans, with wrinkled pouches under their worldly eyes and gray mustaches of knowing twist. Against such a gathering, smiling, but irritable withal underneath from the nervous tension, the large man of bland visage and ironical phrase certainly struck a discordant note.
"Come to the altar and I will explain our ritual."
They moved toward the table in the middle of the room, which was the center of all interest. If men appeared to be chatting absently in a corner, their heads were constantly swiveled this way, their ears caught the announcement of every result.
"None of that, Perley. It was on Stuart's spot," cried a harsh voice from behind the table.
"The needle was on the line," protested Perley, reckless-looking and sadly young. "I say, the needle was on the line, Reddy."