Yet everywhere were men known in the sporting, gaming, or political world, in sea life or land life, most of whom had a character untouched by criticism.
It was at this club that Dyck again met that tall, ascetic messenger from the Attorney-General, who had brought the message to Miles Calhoun.
It was with this man--Leonard Mallow, eldest son of Lord Mallow--that Dyck, with three others, played cards one afternoon.
The instinctive antipathy which had marked their first introduction was carried on to this later meeting.

Dyck distrusted Mallow, and allowed his distrust exercise.

It was unfortunate that Mallow won from him three-fourths of the money he had brought to the club, and won it with a smile not easy to forgive.
Dyck had at last secured sudden success in a scheme of his cards when Mallow asked with a sneer: "Did you learn that at your home in heaven ?" "Don't they teach it where you live in hell ?" was Dyck's reply.
At this Mallow flicked Dyck across the face with his handkerchief.
"That's what they teach where I belong." "Well, it's easy to learn, and we'll do the sum at any time or place you please." After a moment Dyck continued: "I wouldn't make a fuss over it.
Let's finish the game.

There's no good prancing till the sport's ready; so I'll sit and learn more of what they teach in hell!" Dyck had been drinking, or he would not have spoken so; and when he was drunk daring was strong in him.

He hated profoundly this man-so self-satisfied and satanic.
He kept a perfect coolness, however.