There was a table in Room A, with chairs about the table; and a stand against the wall. There were also two large, heavy leather lounging chairs with arms. Pemmican placed his burden upon the stand against the wall, lingered for an instant, and then went softly out. Neither of the men spoke until after he had left the room and closed the door. When each had seated himself at the table, Challoner got down to business.
"Hargraves," he began with sinister familiarity, "you have ten thousand dollars in your pocket, I believe?"
Colonel Hargraves repressed a movement of impatience with difficulty. He nodded, and unconsciously took the attitude of the counterfeit presentment in the apartment of Letty Love.
"Ten thousand dollars," repeated Challoner with provoking coolness, as he likewise planted both elbows on the table, and added somewhat ominously: "And I'm broke!"
There was a pause in which the men looked straight into each other's eyes; then Challoner rose, walked over to the table, half filled two glasses, and placing them on the table, leaned far over it, declaring:—
"And yet, Colonel Hargraves, you and I are going to sit in a ten thousand dollar game to-night!"
Challoner drained his glass; his example, however, was not followed by the Colonel. Instead, he put his arms akimbo, his fists resting on his hips, and tilting back his head, he said with an air of contempt:—
"Indeed! What with?"
"With your ten thousand!" It was well said. Challoner's cool, passionless voice gave to the declaration the character of infallibility.
"And you—" Hargraves muttered in a puzzled way.