eacham Brown, for a hundred
pounds; Mike produced his nearly completed manuscript. Thigh looked
over the MS., judging its length.

"It is all here?"

"No, there's one chapter to come; that's good enough for you."

"Oh yes, it will do. You'll have to finish it, for you'll want to
write for the paper."

This time the cards were perfectly packed, and Mike turned the king.

"Cards?"

"No, play."

Frank and Lizzie leaned breathless over the table, their faces white
in the light of the unshaded lamp. Mike won the whole five tricks.
But luck was dead against him, and in a few minutes the score stood
at three games all. Then outrageously, for there was no help for it,
as he never would have dared if his opponent had been quite sober, he
packed and bridged the cards. He turned the king.

"Cards?"

"No, play."

Mike won the fourth game, and put Mr. Beacham Brown's cheque in his
pocket.

"I'll play you again," said Thigh.

Mike accepted, and before eleven o'clock Thigh had paid three hundred
pounds for the manuscript and lost all his available spare cash. He
glanced narrowly at Mike, paused as he put on his hat and coat, and
Frank wished Lizzie would leave the room, feeling sure that violent
words were inevitable. But at that moment Mike's shoulders and
knuckles seemed more than usually prominent, and Mr. Beacham Brown's
agent slunk away into the darkness.

"You did turn the king pretty often," said Frank, when the door
closed. "I'm glad there was no row."

"Row! I'd have broken his dirty neck. Not content with swindling poor
Beacham Brown, he tries it on with the contributors. I wish I had
been able to get him to go on. I would willingly have fleeced him of
every penny he has in the world."

Lizzie bade them good-night, and the servant brought in a letter for
Mike, a letter which she explained had been incorrectly addressed,
and had just come from the hotel. Frank took up a newspaper which
Thigh had left on the table. He turned it over, glancing hastily
through it. Then something caught his eye, and the expression of his
face changed. And what caused him pain could be no more than a few
words, for the paper fell instantly from his hands and he sat quite
still, staring into space. But neither the sound of the paper
falling, nor yet the frozen rigidity of his attitude drew Mike's
thoughts from the letter he was reading. He glanced hastily through
it, then he read it attentively, lingering over every word. He s