“Don’t talk about my quitting here, Marsh,” he said menacingly.  “That’s the kind of legal advice I won’t have from you or any one else.”

“You may as well make up your mind first as last to it,” said Langham, not regarding what Gilmore had just said.  “I can’t keep Moxlow quiet any longer; the sentiment of the community is against gamblers.  If you are not a gambler, what are you?”

“You mean you are going to throw me over, you two?”

“With Moxlow it is a case of bread and butter; personally I don’t care whom you fleece, but I’ve got my living to make here in Mount Hope, too, and I can’t afford to go counter to public opinion.”

“You have had some favors out of me, Marsh.”

“I am not likely to forget them, you give me no chance,” rejoined Langham bitterly.

“Why should I, eh?” asked Gilmore coolly.  He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling above his head.  “Marsh, what was that North was saying about me when I came down the hall?” and his swarthy cheeks were tinged with red.

“I don’t recall that he was speaking of you.”

“You don’t?  Well, think again.  It was about our going up to your house to-night, wasn’t it?  Your wife’s back, eh?  Well, don’t worry, I came here partly to tell you that I had made other arrangements for the evening.”

“It’s just as well,” said Langham.

“Do you mean your wife wouldn’t receive me?” demanded Gilmore.  There was a catch in his voice and a pallor in his face.

“I didn’t say that.”

Gilmore’s chair resounded noisily on the floor as he came to his feet.  He strode to the lawyer’s side.

“Then what in hell do you say?” he stormed.

In spite of himself Langham quailed before the gambler’s fury.

“Oh, keep still, Andy!  What a nasty-tempered beast you are!” he said pacifically.

There was a pause, and Gilmore resumed his chair, turning to the window to hide his emotion; then slowly his scowling glance came back to Langham.

“He said I was a common card-sharp, eh?” Langham knew that he spoke of North.  “Damn him!  What does he call himself?” He threw the stub of his cigar from him across the room.  “Marsh, what does your wife know about me?” And again there was the catch to his voice.

Langham looked at him in astonishment.

“Know about you—­my wife—­nothing,” he said slowly.

“I suppose she’s heard my name?” inquired the gambler.

“No doubt.”

“Thinks I rob you at cards, eh?” But Langham made no answer to this.  “Thinks I take your money away from you,” continued the gambler.  “And it’s your game to let her think that!  I wonder what she’d think if she knew the account stood the other way about?  I’ve been a handy sort of a friend, haven’t I, Marsh?  The sort you could use,—­and you have used me up to the limit!  I’ve been good enough to borrow money from, but not good enough to take home—­”