A collection of quiet, well-dressed men were playing at the various tables. They were polite and gentle in their movements, quiet of speech and apparently engaged in an occupation to which they were well accustomed and familiar. It was the air of Canfield’s place. Every one entering there was supposed to act like a gentleman and to betray little emotion, no matter what his losings or his winnings might be. And the play was high. Canfield was too impatient to bother with men who bet five or ten dollars. He cared nothing for small fry, but his lines were out constantly for big fish. The white checks cost a dollar each in that room. The mural decorations of the room prevailed in Pompeiian red, and all about were panelings and other furnishings of a wood corresponding to unstained mahogany. In this room hung an excellent example of the painter’s art, for Canfield was a connoisseur in fine paintings and rare prints, about which he would gladly talk by the hour. The handsome painting in the gambling-room he called a “Simmons.” When they reached the gambling-room Herrick motioned toward a rear apartment, saying: “Let’s have something to eat before we begin playing, gentlemen. I am hungry.” “And I’ve got a terrible thirst on me,” murmured Madison, who had been strangely quiet and subdued since the appearance of the desperate and despairing youth in the reception-room. Frank saw Madison’s face was pale, and there was a look of dread in his eyes. All his rollicking manner had departed from him. “He’s in trouble,” thought Merry; “and the sight of the other fellow has given him a start. I don’t think he stands in with Herrick.” They moved toward the dining-room at the rear of the gambling-apartment. This room Frank found to be in keeping with the rest of the place. The paneling was handsomely carved, and the napery on the table was the best that could be procured. Beneath the softened lights, cut glass gleamed like diamonds. Overhead it was tastefully decorated in bronzed leather. Herrick led the way, and they were shown to a table by polite waiters, who placed the chairs for them. Frank looked at the menu in surprise, for he saw quickly that it compared in its range with the very best places of the city. There were all sorts of salads, cold salmon and cold roast meats. A bird, a bit of game, or a cutlet might be ordered. The wine-list seemed to include everything choice and extravagant. “Order what you like, gentlemen,” said Herrick. “Everything is free here to Canfield’s customers.” “Do you mean to say there is no charge for this?” asked Merry, not a little surprised. “No charge at all,” assured the man with the dark mustache. They gave their orders, which were soon filled by the attentive servants. Herrick took pains to order plenty of wine; but, to his surprise, he suddenly found that Frank Merriwell would not drink.