"Rupees one hundred and forty, and I want it now, you sneak!" "But I told you I couldn't square up until the first of the month." "You had no business to play poker, then, if you knew you couldn't settle." "Who asked me to play?" shrilled the other. "You did. Well, I haven't got the money." "You miserable little welcher! That ring is worth a hundred and forty." "You'll never get your dirty fingers inside of that." "Oh, I shan't, eh?" Warrington heard a scuffling, which was presently followed by a low choking sob. He did not know who occupied the adjoining room. He had been away for weeks, and there had been no permanent boarders before that time. He rushed fearlessly into the other room. Pinned to the wall was a young man with a weak pale face. The other man presented nothing more than the back of his broad muscular shoulders. The disparity in weight and height was sufficient to rouse Warrington's sense of fair play. Besides, he was in a rough mood himself. "Here, that'll do," he cried, seizing the heavier man by the collar. "It isn't worth while to kill a man for a handful of rupees. Let go, you fool!" He used his strength. The man and his victim swung in a half-circle and crashed to the floor. With a snarl and an oath, the gambler sprung to his feet and started toward Warrington. He stopped short. "Good God!" he murmured; and retreated until he touched the foot-board of the bed. VI IN THE NEXT ROOM "Craig?" Warrington whispered the word, as if he feared the world might hear the deadly menace in his voice. For murder leaped up in his heart as flame leaps up in pine-kindling. The weak young man got to his knees, then to his feet. He steadied himself by clutching the back of a chair. With one hand he felt of his throat tenderly. "He tried to kill me, the blackguard!" he croaked. "Craig, it _is_ you! For ten years I've never thought of you without murder in my heart. Newell Craig, and here, right where I can put my hands upon you! Oh, this old world is small." Warrington laughed. It was a high thin sound. The young man looked from his enemy to his deliverer, and back again. What new row was this? Never before had he seen the blackguard with that look in his dark, handsome, predatory face. It typified fear. And who was this big blond chap whose fingers were working so convulsively? "Craig," said the young man, "you get out of here, and if you ever come bothering me, I'll shoot you. Hear me?" This direful threat did not seem to stir the sense of hearing in either of the two men. The one faced the other as a lion might have faced a jackal, wondering if it would be worth while to waste a cuff on so sorry a beast. Suddenly the blond man caught the door and swung it wide. "Craig, a week ago I'd have throttled you without the least compunction. To-day I can't touch you. But get out of here as fast as you can. You might have gone feet foremost. Go! Out of Rangoon, too. I may change my mind."