He backed out with a traditional wiggle of his fingers.

It is to be regretted that the stringent regulations of the postal authorities will not permit us any report of the heart-to-heart talk that followed his departure, other than the baldest summary.  It was marked by earnestness, sincerity, even by some petulance, interspersed with frank and spirited repartee.  Mutual recrimination resulted.

Subdued and chastened, Mr. Mitchell was reduced to the ranks; Loring, by virtue of his own and Mitchell’s vote, replacing him.  Archibald’s preference was for a third person still—­namely, himself—­and he acquiesced with ill grace.

They had but little over ten thousand dollars remaining for the return match; and this, as Loring pointed out with just indignation, would only put them even.  They knew that Wyatt would have at least twice that much with him.  So they scurried forth and made such good use of the scant time left them, by borrowing, by squeezing both Bickford and the hard-working bookkeeper, and by resource to certain nest-eggs laid by for case of extreme urgency (known among themselves as “fix money"), they scraped together some six thousand more.  The “ripping” dinner went untasted.  They were hardened, but human.

All ravages of carking care were smoothed away, and they were disposed in luxuriant and contented ease when Wyatt came.

“Aw, gentlemen, I am punctual, you see!” he announced gayly.  “It is weally vewy kind of you to be so obliging—­I’m suah.  Is the—­ah—­mining puhson in?”

Mr. Loring, speaking for the trio, affably regretted that their young friend was not, in fact, at his best during Mr. Wyatt’s previous call.  They had remonstrated with him for his injurious conduct.  At present he was sleeping off the effects of his slight exhilaration:  they thought it would not be at all judicious to disturb him:  they felt sure that, on awakening, he would prove amenable to reason.  Meanwhile, the night was young; if Mr. Wyatt cared to join them in a friendly rubber they would be delighted.

“Chawmed, I’m suah!” said Wyatt.  “I do not desiah any contwovewsy with that vewy wuffianly puhson while he is—­ah—­wuffled.  So I shall wait and shall be happy to join you.”

The score was close; it was only through ingenious manipulation by their opponents that Wyatt and his partner were forced to win a small sum.

“Weally, gentlemen,” drawled Wyatt, looking at his watch, “I shall be fowced to leave you.  I have an engagement at eleven, and I weally feah ouah Mr. Townshend will be, as I might say, hors de combat foh the night.  I have to thawnk you fow a vewy agweeable evening, nevahtheless.”

He was carelessly sweeping the money into his pocket when Mitchell, his partner, checked him.

“I beg your pardon, but is that not a bad dollar?” he said.

“Oh, no mattah—­no consequence at all, I assuah you,” said Wyatt liberally.  He would have pocketed the piece, but Loring, who had paid it, gave him another, and flung the slighted coin over to Mitchell.