ime a shadow of comprehension crossed Asshlin's
face--but it was only a shadow. With a boisterous laugh, he leant
forward and filled the empty glasses that stood upon the table, pushing
one across to Milbanke.

"Have a drop of port, man!" he cried. "Twill give you courage to cut."

He lifted and drained his own glass, and setting it back upon the
table, refilled it.

But Milbanke remained immovable. His thin hands were still clasped, his
pale face looked anxious.

"Go on, James! You're not afraid of a drop of wine?" Again Asshlin
laughed, but this time there was an unpleasant ring audible in his
voice.

Mechanically Milbanke lifted his glass to his lips.

"No," he said with embarrassed deprecation, "no, I'm more afraid of
your displeasure. I--I'm exceedingly sorry to disappoint you."

But once more his host laughed.

"Nonsense, man! I know your little scruples and your little conscience,
and I'm not scared of either. Never meet the devil half way! He covers
the ground too quickly as it is." He caught up the cards again, and
forming them into a pack, held them out. "Cut!" he said laconically.

Milbanke drew back, and his lips came together, in a thin line.

"Come on! Cut!"

The colour of Asshlin's face became a shade deeper.

Still the other sat rigidly still.

For a moment their eyes held each other; then suddenly the blood surged
into Asshlin's neck and face.

"Do you mean to say that you refuse to play?" he asked slowly. "That
you refuse to give me my revenge?"

Milbanke met the attack unsteadily.

"My dear Denis----"

But before the words had left his lips, Asshlin flung the cards upon
the table with a force that sent a score of them flying across the
room.

"And may I ask you for your reasons?" he demanded with alarming calm.

Milbanke fenced.

"I do not wish to play."

"And I don't wish to be treated as a fool."

The other altered his attitude.

"My dear Denis, you surely acknowledge the right of free will? I do not
wish to play cards, and therefore beg to be excused. What could be
simpler?"

His manner was slightly perturbed, his speech hasty. There was the
suggestion of a sleeping volcano in his host's unnatural calm.

In the silence that followed, Asshlin lifted his glass and emptied it
slowly.

"I don't know about that," he said as he set it down. "There are
unwritten codes that all the free will in the world won't dispose of.
One of them is that a gentleman who wins at cards