“Gentlemen,” said Kingsley, “I am very glad to see you. You come at a good time. I am about to expose a scoundrel to you.”
“You shall answer for this, sir,” stammered Cleveland, in equal rage and confusion.
“Answer, shall I? By Jupiter! but you shall answer too! And you shall have the privilege of a first answer, shall you?”
“Mr. Kingsley, what is the meaning of this?” was the demand of a tall, dark-featured man, who now made his appearance from an inner room, and whom I now learned, was, in fact, the proprietor of the establishment.
“Ah! Radcliffe—but before another word is wasted put your fingers into the left breeches pocket of that scoundrel there, and see what you will find.”
Cleveland would have resisted. Kingsley spoke again to Radcliffe, and this time in stern language, which was evidently felt by the person to whom it was addressed.
“Radcliffe, your own credit—nay, safety—will depend upon your showing that you have no share in this rogue's practice. Search him, if you would not share his punishment.”
The fellow was awed, and obeyed instantly. Himself, with three others, grappled with the culprit. He resisted strenuously, but in vain. He was searched, and from the pocket in question three dice were produced.
“Very good,” said Kingsley; “now examine those dice, gentlemen, and see if you can detect one of my initials, the letter 'K,' which I scratched with a pin upon each of them.”
The examination was made, and the letter was found, very small and very faint, it is true, but still legible, upon the ace square of each of the dice.