"I take it, then, you don't care for cards at all."
"Not to play games with." Mannix had become expansive. "I don't mind betting money on the draw of a card, for instance. But no two out of three, y' understand. I want my pleasures to come rapid." And he snapped his thick fingers several times in quick succession to demonstrate the rapidity with which he desired to have his pleasures come.
Vance sauntered to the table and carelessly picked up a deck of cards.
"What do you say to cutting once for a thousand dollars?"
Mannix rose instantly.
"You're on!"
Vance handed the cards over, and Mannix shuffled them. Then he put them down and cut. He turned up a ten. Vance cut, and showed a king.
"A thousand I owe you," said Mannix, with no more concern than if it had been ten cents.
Vance waited without speaking, and Mannix eyed him craftily.
"I'll cut with you again—two thousand this time. Yes?"
Vance raised his eyebrows. "Double? . . . By all means." He shuffled the cards, and cut a seven.
Mannix's hand swooped down and turned a five.
"Well, that's three thousand I owe you," he said. His little eyes had now narrowed into slits, and he held his cigar clamped tightly between his teeth.
"Like to double it again—eh, what?" Vance asked. "Four thousand this time?"
Markham looked at Vance in amazement, and over Allen's face there came an expression of almost
