“Why do you ‘poor Jack’ him to me?” said Gilmore sullenly.

Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment.

“He is one of my oldest friends.  I have known him all my life!” she said.

“Well, one’s friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he’s made for himself,” observed Gilmore in surly tones.

“Yes,—­perhaps—­” answered Evelyn absently.

“Look here, I don’t want to talk to you about North anyhow; can’t we hit on some other topic?” asked Gilmore.

It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life.

“Why have you and Marsh turned against him?” she asked.

The gambler considered for an instant.

“Do you really want to know?  Well, you see he wasn’t square; that does a man up quicker than anything else.”

“I don’t believe it!” she cried.

“It’s so,—­ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then’s when we quit him,” he said, nodding and smiling grimly.

There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured.  She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North’s rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself.  She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty.  Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair.  He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her.

“What’s the matter,—­why do you keep me at arm’s length; what have I done, anyhow?” he asked impatiently.

“Do I keep you at arm’s length?  Well, perhaps you need to be kept there,” she said.

“You should know what brings me here,—­why it is I can’t keep away—­”

“How should I know, unless you tell me?” she said softly.

Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling.

“Isn’t that another of your little jokes, Evelyn?  Do you really want me to tell you?”

“I am dying with curiosity!”

Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him.

“Well, I guess it’s principally to see you!” he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion.

She laughed.

“Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!”

At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant.  His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning.

“Look here, aren’t you about sick of Marsh?” he asked.  “How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing?  You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!”