"Oh, but if he is being hurt you must stop it!" said Angel.
We laid down our cards; I loosened the ropes round his wrists a little and propped him up on the sofa; Chelubai mixed him an effervescing draught which Bottiger had found cleared the head of the drug very quickly and poured it down his throat. Then, leaving him sitting up, we went back to our game. Angel and I won the third rubber. During the next I watched Honest John Driver at intervals, and saw that his eye grew brighter and his face fuller and fuller of discomfort The fourth rubber was a hard-fought fight, but in the end Angel and I won it.
I pushed away my chair from the table, faced him and said sternly: "Now, Mr. Driver, first of all you had better realize what dishonesty has done for you. It has delivered you bound hand and foot into the hands of the very people you have defrauded of the money you promised them for removing your financial accomplice, Albert Pudleigh—people who, as you have the best reason in the world to know, stick at nothing."
Driver's flabby face faded to an unpleasant cream color, which was as near white as it could get.
"B—b—b—but you're wrong!" he stammered. "I n—n—never had any intention of defrauding you! N—none at all."
