en man
enough to say "Yes!" to the odds offered him he would have been five
thousand dollars richer this instant! Five thousand dollars! He ran a
flabby hand across a moist brow.

"Where's the luck in that throw?" demanded Kendric, fully enjoying the
play of expression on Ortega's face.

"The luck," grumbled Ortega, "was that I did not bet you. If I had bet
it would have been a six, no less."

"Tony Munoz," called Kendric, turning. "Will it be you?"

"No!" shouted Ortega, already angered in his grasping soul, ready to
spew forth his wrath in any direction, always more than ready to rail
at his son-in-law. "Munoz has no business in my house. Who is boss
here? It is me!"

Kendric seeing that Tony Munoz was contenting himself with sneering and
certainly would not play, began gathering up the money on the table.
It was then that for the first time he heard the voice of Ruiz Rios's
companion.

"I will play Senor Kendric."

The voice ran through the quiet of the room musically. The utterance
was low, gentle, the accent was the soft, tender accent of Old Spain
with some subtle flavor of other alien races. No man in the room had
ever heard such sweet, soothing music as was made by her slow words.
After the sound died away a hush remained and through men's memories
the cadences repeated themselves like lingering echoes. Kendric
himself stared at her wonderingly, not knowing why her hidden look
stirred him so, not knowing why there should be a spell worked by five
quiet words. Nor did he find the spell entirely pleasant; as her look
had done, so now her speech vaguely disturbed him. His emotion, though
not outright irritation, was akin to it. He was opening his lips to
say curtly, "I do not play dice with women, senora," when Ortega's
sudden outburst forestalled him.

Kendric had barely had the time to register the faint impression of the
odd sensation which this companion of Ruiz Rios awoke in him, when he
was set to puzzle over Ortega's explosion. Why should the gaming-house
keeper raise so violent an objection to any sort of a game played in
his place? Perhaps Ortega himself could not have explained clearly
since it is doubtful if he felt clearly; it is likely that a childishly
blind anger had spurted up venomously in his heart when Kendric had
exposed the deuce and men had laughed and Ortega felt as though he had
lost five thousand dollars. In such a case a man's wrath explodes
readily, combustion b