“All right,” grunted the big fellow; “backward it is.”  And he reversed the motion.

“Thank you,” breathed Mr. Slush, with a show of relief.  “Now, I’ll tell you—­why I called.  I—­er—­saw a young man—­leaving this room—­a few minutes ago.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Bloodgood.”

“Yes.”

“I—­I have taken an interest in—­Mr. Bloodgood.  I—­I think he is—­a rather nice young man.”

“I don’t admire your taste,” came from Jack.

“Eh?  I don’t know him—­very well.  You understand.  Met him—­in the smoking-room.  Sometimes I—­er—­play cards—­for amusement.  Met him that way.”

“Does he play for amusement?” asked Frank.

“Oh, yes—­ah—­of course.  That is—­he—­he likes—­a little stake.”

“I thought so.”

“I—­I don’t mind that.”

“Great Scott!” thought Merry.  “I don’t see how he ever gets round to play cards for money.  I shouldn’t think he’d know what to do.  It would take him so long to make up his mind.”

“But I—­I don’t care to make a—­a companion of anybody about whom I know—­nothing.  That’s why I—­came to you.  I—­I thought it might be you could give me—­some information—­about Mr. Bloodgood.”

“You’ve come to the wrong place.”

“Really?  Don’t you know—­anything about him?  You are—­er—­well acquainted with him?”

“On the contrary, to-day is the first time we have ever spoken to him.”

“Is that so?” said Mr. Slush, in evident disappointment.  “You are—­er—­young men about—­about his age, and—­and—­”

“Not in his class,” put in Diamond.

“No?” said Mr. Slush, looking at Jack queerly.  “I didn’t know—­I thought—­”

There the queer little man stopped, seeming quite unable to proceed.  Then, in his hesitating, uncertain way, he tried to make it clear that he did not care to play cards for money with anybody about whom he knew nothing.  He was not very effective in his explanation, and seemed himself rather uncertain concerning his real reason for wishing to make inquiries concerning Bloodgood.

Frank studied Mr. Slush closely, but could not take the measure of the man.  Somehow, Merry seemed to feel that there was more to the queer little fellow than appeared on the surface.

“Well, you have come to the wrong parties to get information about Mr. Bloodgood,” said Frank.  “But, if you are so particular about your company, it might be well to learn something concerning the other members of your party.”

“Oh—­er—­I know all about them,” asserted Mr. Slush.

“Indeed?”

“Yes.  Hugh Hazleton is the younger son of an English nobleman, and he is—­is all—­right.”

“Who told you this?”

“He did.”

“Then it must be true,” grunted Browning, with a grin on his broad face.

“Yes,” nodded the little man, innocently, “that is—­ah—­settled.  M. Rouen Montfort is a—­a great French journalist and—­er—­writer of books.”