For all that, it was plain that he was not unarmed.

A certain calm insolence about his expression told Frederic Fernand that the teeth of the dragon were not drawn.
"Gents," he was saying, in his mild voice, while his eyes ran restlessly from face to face, "I sure do hate to bust up a nice little party like this one has been, but I figure them cards are stacked.

I got a pile of reasons for knowing, and I want somebody to look over them cards--somebody that knows stacked cards when he sees 'em.

Mostly it ain't hard to get onto the order of them being run up.

I'll leave it, gents, to the man that runs this dump." And, leaning across the table, he pushed the pack straight to Frederic Fernand.