Monty, standing in the opening, began to mutter to himself.
"I am sure to win--Trent is always unlucky at cards--such a little risk, and the brandy--ah!" He sucked in his lips for a moment with a slight gurgling sound.

He looked over his shoulder, and his face grew haggard with longing.

His eyes sought Trent's, but Trent was smoking stolidly and looking at the cards spread out before him, as a chess-player at his pieces.
"Such a very small risk," Monty whispered softly to himself.

"I need the brandy too.

I cannot sleep without it! Trent!" Trent made no answer.