“I tell you I saw it.  I thought I was mistaken at first.”  His face was white, and he disregarded the efforts of his right-hand neighbor to quiet him.

“Don’t squeal,” smiled the dealer.  “I’ll leave it to the boys if I did anything wrong.”

“You pulled that king from the bottom.  It may not be wrong, but it’s damned peculiar.”

“Forget it!” one of the others exclaimed.  “Denny wouldn’t double-cross you.”

“Hardly!” agreed Mr. Denny, evenly.  “You’re ‘in’ a hundred and eighty dollars, but if you’re sore you can have it back.”

Appleton flung his cards into the middle of the table and turned away disgustedly.  “It’s a hard thing to prove, and I’m not absolutely sure I saw straight, or—­I’d take it back, fast enough.”

Denny shrugged and gathered in the discarded hand.  “You’ve been drinking too much, that’s all.  Your eyesight is scattered.”

Appleton’s face flushed as he beheld the gaze of the company upon him and heard the laughter which greeted this remark.  He turned to leave when O’Neil, who had continued to watch the proceedings with interest, crossed to the group and touched Denny on the shoulder, saying, quietly: 

“Give him his money.”

“Eh?” The smile faded from the fellow’s face; he looked up with startled inquiry.  “What?”

“Give him his money.”

In the momentary hush which followed, “Happy Tom” Slater, who had frequently seen his employer in action and understood storm signals, sighed deeply and reached for the nearest chair.  With a wrench of his powerful hands he loosened a leg.  Although Mr. Slater abhorred trouble, he was accustomed to meet it philosophically.  A lifetime spent in construction camps had taught him that, of all weapons, the one best suited to his use was a pick-handle; second to that he had come to value the hardwood leg of a chair.  But in the present case his precaution proved needless, for the dispute was over before he had fairly prepared himself.

Without waiting for O’Neil to put his accusation into words Denny had risen swiftly, and in doing so he had either purposely or by accident made a movement which produced a prompt and instinctive reaction.  Murray’s fist met him as he rose, met him so squarely and with such force that he lost all interest in what followed.  The other card-players silently gathered Mr. Denny in their arms and stretched him upon a disused roulette table; the bartender appeared with a wet towel and began to bathe his temples.

Appleton, dazed by the suddenness of it all, found a stack of gold pieces in his hand and heard O’Neil saying in an every-day tone: 

“Come to my room, please.  I’d like to talk to you.”  Something commanding in the speaker’s face made the engineer follow against his will.  He longed to loiter here until Denny had regained his senses—­but O’Neil had him by the arm and a moment later he was being led down the hall away from the lobby and the barroom.  As Slater, who had followed, closed the door behind them, Dan burst forth: