"Were you ever here before, Colonel ?" he added.
"Never." "I don't suppose half a dozen people in the town were ever inside his door until to-night," said Watt Harbison, speaking for the first time.
Gilmore turned to look at the colonel's nephew as if he had only that moment become aware of his presence.

What he saw did not impress him greatly, for young Watt, save for an unusually large head, was much like other young men of his class.

His speech was soft, his face beardless and his gray eyes gazed steadily but without curiosity on, what was for him, an uncliented world.

For the eighteen months that he had been an "attorney and counselor at law" the detail of office rent had been taken care of by the colonel.
"Sort of makes the game he played seem rotten poor sport," commented Gilmore, replying to the nephew but looking at the uncle.
The colonel was silent.
"Rotten poor sport!" repeated Gilmore.
"Who'll come in for his property ?" asked Watt Harbison.
"Oh, some one will claim that," said Gilmore.

"They were saying down at the store, that once, years ago, a brother of his turned up, here, but McBride got rid of him." "Suppose we have a look around before we settle ourselves for the night," suggested Watt Harbison.
"Will you join us, Colonel ?" asked the gambler.
But the colonel shook his head.