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"Now, Macfarren," he said, turning to that gentleman, who still sat by the table, "you have some money not belonging to you. Put it on the table." Without a moment's hesitation Macfarren hastily poured forth from his pocket poker-chips, gold pieces, and bills. "I assure you, Mr. Stanton," he hurried to say, "I was simply holding them till the ah trouble should be over."
She pointed out that he might easily have lost this sum. She was indeed being a mother to the defenceless boy. It was after a gambling session that she demanded to be told what he was doing with his salary. His careless hazarding of poker-chips had caused her to be fearful of his general money sense. Merton Gill had indeed been reckless. He was now, he felt, actually one of the Hollywood set.
The barkeeper spoke quietly but without the slightest change of expression, even of the eye. "I heard you, but I'm not dealing out drinks to deadbeats. Pay up, and I'll be glad to serve you." Swift as thought Blair's hand went to his hip, and the rattle of poker-chips sympathetically ceased. A second, and a big revolver was trained fair at the dispenser of liquors.
The dull rattle of poker-chips lasted longer, frequently far into the night, and even after the tardy light of morning had come to the rescue of the sputtering stumps in the candlesticks. On such a morning, early in November, daylight broadened upon a characteristic scene. Only one table was in use, and around it sat four men. One by one the other players had cashed out and left the game.
Yet they were of a make and texture superior to those that a servant would possess; looking at them carefully, he recognized them to be of a quality used by the better-class gamblers. Restoring them carefully to their former position, he was tempted to take out the other volumes, and was rewarded with the further discovery of a small box of ivory counters, known as "poker-chips."
"What for?" asked Bubbles, always interested in the smallest details of sporting propositions. "Poker-chips," said Harry, and Bubbles looked his disgust. There was a minute's silence, then: "Harry," said Bubbles, "what do you think he's up to?" "By George," said Harry, "I can't make out. What do you think?" Bubbles's sensitive mouth quivered eagerly.
"No, I'll not get in; but I'll go up and watch you a few minutes." They ascended to the card-room, where the air was heavy and acrid with cigar smoke, and where the silence was broken only by the click of poker-chips. At the end of twenty minutes Condy was playing, having borrowed enough money of Sargeant to start him in the game.
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