He was young, impressionable, and there was rare witchery about the girl which momentarily fascinated him.

His attention shifted back to Farnham with a swift remembrance of the stern purpose which had brought him there.

The gambler was playing out his case silently, emotionless as ever.

If he had observed anything unusual, if he considered anything beyond his card-play, no eye could have detected it in that impassive countenance, those cold, expressionless eyes.

Apparently he was a mere automaton, the sole symbol of life showing in the white fingers so deftly dealing the fateful pasteboards from the box.