The Voices of the Night
rather, that he contemplated springing at O'Rourke's throat. Doubtless, in point of fact, nothing kept him from such an assault but that hand which remained negligently concealed in the coat pocket.
O'Rourke followed his glance, and nodded meaningly. "I should not hesitate," he assured the fellow, twisting the revolver upward so that its muzzle showed sharply through the cloth. "Be very careful that I do not forget meself."
The croupier's voice rattled huskily in his throat. "What does m'sieur mean?" he would know. "I do not understand—"
"Oh, yes, ye do!" contradicted O'Rourke. "But, as for that, I mean this."
He bent forward, very quickly, and seized the wheel by the cross, attempting to lift it; and it failed to budge to his strength.
"Ye see, madam," explained O'Rourke, "the wheel is fixed—likewise the game. Monsieur has cheated ye shamelessly. He will make restitution."
He nodded brusquely to the man. "Quick, monsieur," he warned him, sharply. "Repay madam what she has lost or—do ye wish all Tangiers to know your methods?"
So far the altercation had been conducted in tones discreetly modulated; the others in the salon were unaware that aught was amiss. The croupier assured himself of this fact with a hasty glance. Then—
"You will not tell, m'sieur?" he pleaded.
"Not if ye repay madam's wagers, and that quickly."
"Nor madame?"
She shook her head in negation; not a word had she uttered from first to last of the little scene. Only her gaze, at first bewildered, then with dawning understanding, and later
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