of them."

"One of them! Take it back, Blackie!" protested Wallingford. "Why,
they're a bunch of crooks!"

In deep dejection young Wallingford, rejoining his guests, ordered
three lemonades and a quart of champagne. There was a trifle more of
animation among them now, however, since they had been left alone for
a few moments. They told three or four very hilarious stories, in each
of which the nub of the joke hinged on an utter disregard of every
human decency. Then, quite casually and after a lull, Badger Billy
smoothed down his smart vest and cleared his throat.

"What do you fellows say to a little game of stud?" he proposed.

"Sure!" agreed Wallingford with alacrity. "That's the first live noise
I've heard to-day," and he went to the 'phone at once to order up some
cards and chips.

With his back turned, the three lemonade drinkers exchanged pleased
smiles. It was too easy! Mr. Daw let them smile, and reposed
calmly upon the couch, entirely disinterested. Professional ethics
forbade Mr. Daw to interfere with the "trimming" of the jovial Mr.
Wallingford, and the instincts of a gentleman, with which, of course,
they were all perfectly provided, prevented him from taking any part
in that agreeable operation. To his keen amusement the game was very
brief--scarcely more than twenty minutes.

It was Short-Card Larry who, with a yawn, discovered suddenly how late
it was and stopped the game. As he rose to go, young Wallingford,
chuckling, was adding a few additional bills to the plethoric roll in
his pocket.

"What made you chop the game, Larry?" asked Green-Goods Harry in
impatient wonder. "We'd ought to strung it along a while. What made
you let him have that hundred and fifty so quick?"

"Let him!" retorted Larry savagely. "He took it! Twice I gave him aces
back to back on my deal, and he turned them down without a bet. On his
own deal he bet his head off on a pair of deuces, with not one of us
three able to draw out on him; and right there he cops that hundred
and fifty himself. He's too fresh!"

"Well," said Badger Billy philosophically, "he'll come for more."

"Not of mine, he won't," snorted the dexterous one. "I can't do any
business against a man that's next. I hope he chokes."

"There you go again, letting your temper get the best of you,"
protested Mr. Phelps, himself none too pleased. "This fresh lollop has
coin, and it ought to be ours."

"Ought to be? It _is_ ours," growled Larry. "We'll get i