or hang without
opening her mouth to save him? Come, you should know something about her
by this time; I would, if I had been married to her as long as you
have."

Suddenly he released Langham and fell back a step. The lawyer staggered
to his feet, adjusting his collar and cravat which Gilmore's grasp on
his throat had disarranged. He glanced about him with a vague notion of
obtaining some weapon that would put him on an equality with his more
powerful antagonist, but nothing offered, and he took a step toward the
door.

"Don't be a fool, Marsh," said the gambler coldly. "I'm going to change
my tactics with you. I'm not going to wear myself out keeping your nose
pointed in the right direction; you must do something for yourself, you
drunken fool!"

Langham took another step toward the door, but his eyes--the starting
bloodshot eyes of a hunted animal--still searched the room for some
weapon. Except for the heavy iron poker by the grate, there was nothing
that would serve his purpose, and he must pass the gambler to reach
that. Still fumbling with his collar he paused irresolutely, midway of
the room. Pride and self-respect would have taken him from the place but
hate and fear kept him there.

Gilmore threw himself down in a chair before the fire and lit a cigar.
In spite of himself Langham watched him, fascinated. There was such
conscious power and mastery in everything the gambler did, that he felt
the various purposes that were influencing him collapse with miserable
futility. What was the use of struggling?

"You can do as you blame please in this matter, Marsh," said the gambler
at length. "I haven't meant to offend you or insult you, but if you want
to see it that way--all right, it suits me. You needn't look about you,
for you won't find any sledges here; you ought to know that."

"What do you mean--" asked Langham in a whisper.

"Draw up a chair and sit down, Marsh, and we'll thrash this thing out if
it takes all night. Here, have a cigar!" for Langham had drawn forward a
chair. With trembling fingers he took the cigar the gambler handed him.
"Now light up," said Gilmore. He watched Langham strike a match, watched
his shaking hands as he brought its flame to the cigar's end. "That's
better," he said as the first puff of smoke left Langham's colorless
lips. "So you think you want to know what I mean, eh? Well, I'm going to
take you into my confidence, Marsh, and just remember you can't
possibly reach the