chances with the fickle Goddess of Fortune.  To one trained in the calm observation of small things, and long accustomed to weigh his adversaries with care, it was not extremely difficult to class the two strangers, and Hampton smiled softly on observing the size of the rolls rather ostentatiously exhibited by them.  He felt that his lines had fallen in pleasant places, and looked forward with serene confidence to the enjoyment of a royal game, provided only he exercised sufficient patience and the other gentlemen possessed the requisite nerve.  His satisfaction was in noways lessened by the sound of their voices, when incautiously raised in anger over some unfortunate play.  He immediately recognized them as the identical individuals who had loudly and vainly protested over his occupancy of the best rooms at the hotel.  He chuckled grimly.

But what bothered him particularly was Slavin.  The cool gray eyes, glancing with such apparent negligence across the cards in his hands, noted every slight movement of the red-bearded gambler, in expectation of detecting some sign of trickery, or some evidence that he had been selected by this precious trio for the purpose of easy plucking.  Knavery was Slavin’s style, but apparently he was now playing a straight game, no doubt realizing clearly, behind his impassive mask of a face, the utter futility of seeking to outwit one of Hampton’s enviable reputation.

It was, unquestionably, a fairly fought four-handed battle, and at last, thoroughly convinced of this, Hampton settled quietly down, prepared to play out his game.  The hours rolled on unnoted, the men tireless, their faces immovable, the cards dealt silently.  The stakes grew steadily larger, and curious visitors, hearing vague rumors without, ventured in, to stand behind the chairs of the absorbed players and look on.  Now and then a startled exclamation evidenced the depth of their interest and excitement, but at the table no one spoke above a strained whisper, and no eye ventured to wander from the board.  Several times drinks were served, but Hampton contented himself with a gulp of water, always gripping an unlighted cigar between his teeth.  He was playing now with apparent recklessness, never hesitating over a card, his eye as watchful as that of a hawk, his betting quick, confident, audacious.  The contagion of his spirit seemed to affect the others, to force them into desperate wagers, and thrill the lookers-on.  The perspiration was beading Slavin’s forehead, and now and then an oath burst unrestrained from his hairy lips.  Hawes and Willis sat white-faced, bent forward anxiously over the table, their fingers shaking as they handled the fateful cards, but Hampton played without perceptible tremor, his utterances few and monosyllabic, his calm face betraying not the faintest emotion.