"I take you," said several, picking up the gantlet he had thrown down. Faught had spoken first and Kennedy was chosen stake-holder. Shagarach, meanwhile, had retired to a table in the corner and ordered some wine.
"One thousand to ten I break the bank," called Harry as loudly as before.
"I will debar any man who uses that tone again," said Reddy, never moving a muscle. His eyes were as cold and steady as the barrels of two Derringers in the hands of a Texan train robber, and the young bravo, though his lip curled, did not reply. His second bet was taken and the game resumed amid its former silence.
The losers repaired to the sideboard now and then and renewed their courage with stimulants, but one or two who called for brandy were told that no strong liquors were allowed. The little outbreak over Perley's protest showed the wisdom of this rule. Harry Arnold's purse seemed to be well lined to-night, for he led the play higher and higher.
Shagarach held his wineglass toward the chandelier, so as to shield a searching glance at the young man's face. Under the artificial light it was brilliantly beautiful, the face of a man who could say to almost any woman "Come" and she would follow him to the ends of the earth.
"Do you know young Arnold?" asked Faught of Shagarach, who had just lowered his wineglass. He began to take some notice of this large, quiet man, who, all unobserved, was making the rounds of the room.
"By sight," he answered, suppressing a yawn. "You took his bet, I noticed?"
"Only a hundred, and as good as mine already. He's bucking the reds."
"Gad, Harry, you have nerve," Kennedy's pipe was heard exclaiming.
"I see you don't understand," continued Faught. "There are four red spots, you remember. Ordinarily these are not used. In the common game it is impossible for the bank to lose, though one of the players may win."