In the darkness he groped about until he had found and wrung his companion’s hand again. He would have detained it, but Jack slipped it into the buttoned breast of his coat, and asked listlessly, “How long has this been going on?” “Ever since she came here; ever since the day she walked into the Magnolia. I was a fool then; Jack, I’m a fool now; but I didn’t know how much I loved her till then. And she hasn’t been the same woman since. “But that ain’t all, Jack; and it’s what I wanted to see you about, and I’m glad you’ve come. It ain’t that she doesn’t love me any more; it ain’t that she fools with every chap that comes along; for perhaps I staked her love and lost it, as I did everything else at the Magnolia; and perhaps foolin’ is nateral to some women, and thar ain’t no great harm done, ’cept to the fools. But, Jack, I think,—I think she loves somebody else. Don’t move, Jack! don’t move; if your pistol hurts ye, take it off. “It’s been more’n six months now that she’s seemed unhappy and lonesome, and kinder nervous and scared-like. And sometimes I’ve ketched her lookin’ at me sort of timid and pitying. And she writes to somebody. And for the last week she’s been gathering her own things,—trinkets, and furbelows, and jew’lry,—and, Jack, I think she’s goin’ off. I could stand all but that. To have her steal away like a thief!” He put his face downward to the pillow, and for a few moments there was no sound but the ticking of a clock on the mantel. Mr. Hamlin lit a cigar, and moved to the open window. The moon no longer shone into the room, and the bed and its occupant were in shadow. “What shall I do, Jack?” said the voice from the darkness. The answer came promptly and clearly from the window-side, “Spot the man, and kill him on sight.” “But, Jack”— “He’s took the risk!” “But will that bring her back?” Jack did not reply, but moved from the window towards the door. “Don’t go yet, Jack; light the candle and sit by the table. It’s a comfort to see ye, if nothin’ else.” Jack hesitated and then complied. He drew a pack of cards from his pocket and shuffled them, glancing at the bed. But Brown’s face was turned to the wall. When Mr. Hamlin had shuffled the cards, he cut them, and dealt one card on the opposite side of the table towards the bed, and another on his side of the table for himself. The first was a deuce; his own card a king. He then shuffled and cut again. This time “dummy” had a queen and himself a four-spot. Jack brightened up for the third deal. It brought his adversary a deuce and himself a king again. “Two out of three,” said Jack audibly. “What’s that, Jack?” said Brown. “Nothing.” Then Jack tried his hand with dice; but he always threw sixes and his imaginary opponent aces. The force of habit is sometimes confusing.