he cried, meaning that he challenged Cranley for all the money
in the bank. There must have been some seven hundred pounds.

"All right," said Cranley, taking a sip of his soda water. He had dealt
two cards, when his hands were suddenly grasped as in two vices, and
cramped to the table. Barton had bent over from behind and caught him by
the wrists.

Cranley made one weak automatic movement to extricate himself; then he
sat perfectly still. His face, which he turned over his shoulder, was
white beneath the stains of tan, and his lips were blue.

"Damn you!" he snarled. "What trick are you after now?"

"Are you drunk, Barton?" cried some one.

"Leave him alone!" shouted some of the players, rising from their seats;
while others, pressing round Barton, looked over his shoulder without
seeing any excuse for his behavior.

"Gentlemen," said Barton, in a steady voice, "I leave my conduct in the
hands of the club. If I do not convince them that Mr. Cranley has been
cheating, I am quite at their disposal, and at his. Let anyone who
doubts what I say look here."

"Well, I'm looking here, and I don't see what you are making such a fuss
about," said Martin, from the group behind, peering over at the table
and the cards.

"Will you kindly---- No, it is no use." The last remark was addressed to
the captive, who had tried to release his hands. "Will you kindly take
up some of the cards and deal them slowly, to right and left, over that
little puddle of spilt soda water on the leather? Get as near the table
as you can."

There was a dead silence while Martin made this experiment.

"By gad, I can see every pip on the cards!" cried Martin.

"Of course you can; and if you had the art of correcting fortune, you
could make use of what you see. At the least you would know whether to
take a card or stand."

"I didn't," said the wretched Cranley. "How on earth was I to know that
the infernal fool of a waiter would spill the liquor there, and give you
a chance against me?"

"You spilt the liquor yourself," Barton answered coolly, "when I took
away your cigarette-case. I saw you passing the cards over the surface
of it, which anyone can see for himself is a perfect mirror. I tried
to warn you--for I did not want a row--when I said the case 'seemed
to bring you luck.' But you would not be warned; and when the
cigarette-case trick was played out, you fell back on the old dodge with
the drop of water. Will anyone else convince hims