"If you mean me," returned Cargan, "forget it. There ain't no St. Helena in my future." He winked at Magee. "Lou's a little peevish this morning," he said. "Had a bad night." He busied himself with the cards. Mr. Magee looked on, only half interested. Then, suddenly, his interest grew. He watched the mayor build, in two piles; he saw that the deck from which he built was thick. A weird suspicion shot across his mind. "Tell me," he asked, "is this the admiral's game of solitaire?" "Exactly what I was going to ask," said a voice. Magee looked up. Kendrick had come in, and stood now above the table. His tired eyes were upon it, fascinated; his lips twitched strangely. "Yes," answered the mayor, "this is the admiral's game. You'd hardly expect me to know it, would you? I don't hang out at the swell clubs where the admiral does. They won't have me there. But once I took the admiral on a public service board with me--one time when I wanted a lot of dignity and no brains pretty bad--and he sort of come back by teaching me his game in the long dull hours when we had nothing to do but serve the public. The thing gets a hold on you, somehow. Let's see--now the spade--now the heart." Kendrick leaned closer. His breath came with a noisy quickness that brought the fact of his breathing insistently to Magee's mind. "I never knew--how it was played," he said. Something told Mr. Magee that he ought to rise and drag Kendrick away from that table. Why? He did not know. Still, it ought to be done. But the look in Kendrick's eyes showed clearly that the proverbial wild horses could not do it then. "Tell me how it's played," went on Kendrick, trying to be calm. "You must be getting old," replied the mayor. "The admiral told me the young men at his club never took any interest in his game. 'Solitaire,' he says to me, 'is an old man's trade.' It's a great game, Mr. Kendrick." "A great game," repeated Kendrick, "yes, it's a great game." His tone was dull. "I want to know how it's played," he said again. "The six of clubs," reflected the mayor, throwing down another card. "Say, she's going fine now. There ain't much to it. You use two decks, exactly alike--shuffle 'em together--the eight of hearts--the jack of--say, that's great--you lay the cards down here, just as they come--like this--" He paused. His huge hand held a giddy pasteboard. A troubled look was on his face. Then he smiled happily, and went on in triumph. "And then you build, Mr. Kendrick," he said. "The reds and the blacks. You build the blacks on the left, and the reds on the right--do you get me? Then--say, what's the matter?" For Kendrick had swayed and almost fallen on the admiral's game--the game that had once sent a man to hell. "Go on," he said, bracing. "Nothing's the matter. Go on. Build, damn it, build!" The mayor looked at him a moment in surprise, then continued.