. Barter's limited accomplishments as almost any
man alive.

Phil's interest in the game had grown grimly observant in the first ten
minutes. Young Mr. Barter had a knack, when he shuffled the cards,
of slily inclining the painted sides upwards. He had another knack of
leaving an honour at the bottom. He made a false cut with fair dexterity
for an amateur. He could, when occasion seemed to make it profitable,
discard with a fair air of unconsciousness. An ace dropped out of sight
a hand or two earlier, was followed by a valueless card dropped openly.
The ace was taken to supply its place with a perfect smiling effrontery.
But Mr. Barter's favourite trick came out when he had a weak hand. Then
he smiled across at his opponent, breathed softly the words 'six cards,'
and dropped the worthless hand on the top of the pack, calling for a new
deal All this Philip Bommaney watched with a complete seeming innocence
and good temper. He lost his sixpences handsomely, made no protest, and
looked unruffled.

'You play false for sixpences, do you?' he said inwardly. 'I suppose a
scoundrel is a scoundrel all through, and that if you'll sell your soul
for so little, you could hardly object to driving a bargain for a larger
sum.'

He was often tempted in the course of a quarter of an hour to try Mr.
Barter with a sudden challenge, and see what would come of it. Surveying
his companion with that placid inquiry which Barter felt to be so
excessively uncomfortable, he came to have but a poor opinion of his
courage. He was one of those men who, even without knowing it, take
profound observations of their fellow-creatures. The true observer of
human nature is by no means a personage who is always on the strain
after insight into character. He is, on the contrary, pretty generally
an inward-looking man, who seems to notice little, and takes in his
surroundings as the immortal Joey Ladle did his wine. Philip judged
Barter to be a nervous man, and supposed him, even when strung to
his bent, to have no great tenacity or continuance of courage. He had
learned more and more to believe his father's story, though he had
perhaps too carefully guarded himself from his own eager desire to
accept it Barter's every action with the cards offered confirmation
of the belief that he had taken possession of the lost notes. He
was certainly a petty rascal, and there was obviously nothing but
opportunity needed to make him bloom into a rascal on a larger sca