“I saw a few in the dance-hall,” replied Neale.
“Then you haven’t looked in at Stanton’s?”
“Who’s he?”
“Stanton is not a man,” replied Hough.
Neale glanced inquiringly over his glass.
“Beauty Stanton, they call her,” went on Hough. “I saw her in New Orleans years ago when she was a very young woman—notorious then. She had the beauty and she led the life... did Beauty Stanton.”
Neale made no comment, and Hough, turning to pay for the drinks, was accosted by several men. They wanted to play poker.
“Gentlemen, I hate to take your money,” he said. “But I never refuse to sit in a game. Neale, will you join us?”
They found a table just vacated. Neale took two of the three strangers to be prosperous merchants or ranchers from the Missouri country. The third was a gambler by profession. Neale found himself in unusually sharp company. He did not have a great deal of money. So in order to keep clear-headed he did not drink. And he began to win, not by reason of excellent judgment, but because he was lucky. He had good cards all the time, and part of the time very strong ones. It struck him presently that these remarkable hands came during Hough’s deal, and he wondered if the gambler was deliberately manipulating the cards to his advantage. At any rate, he won hundreds of dollars.
“Mr. Neale, do you always hold such cards?” asked one of the men.