They entered, to find a small room, from the centre of which a brass-stepped staircase rose to the floor above. On one side of this office was a counter, behind which sat a fat, sleek Chinaman, industriously writing with a vertical brush in an account-book, pausing occasionally to compute a sum upon the ebony beads of an abacus. He looked up and nodded at Coffin, and, without stopping his work, called out several words in Chinese to those upstairs. The two went past the kitchens on the second floor to the top story, where several large dining-rooms, elaborately decorated in carved wood and colored glass windows, stretched from front to rear. In one room a group of men, seemingly Eastern tourists, were seated on teakwood stools at a round table, drinking tea and nibbling at sugared confections distributed in numerous bowls. Expatiating upon the wonders of the place was what seemed to be one of the orthodox Chinatown guides, pointing with his slim rattan cane, and smoking a huge cigar. Coffin led the way to a back room, and, looking carefully to see if he were observed, knocked three times at an unobtrusive door. Immediately a silken curtain at the side was raised, disclosing a window guarded by a wire screen. In an instant it was dropped again and the door was opened narrowly. Coffin pushed his friend through, and they found themselves in a square, box-like closet or hallway. Here, another door was opened after a similar signal and inspection by the look-out, and they passed through. Inside this last barrier was a large room painted a garish blue. About a table in the centre several Chinamen were assembled, and doors were opening and shutting to receive or let out visitors. At a desk in the corner was sitting a thin-faced merchant with horn spectacles and long drooping white mustaches. To him Coffin went immediately and shook hands. Then he explained something of the workings of the lottery to the Klondyker. It was decided to buy a fifteen-dollar ticket, and they received a square of yellow paper where, within a border, were printed eighty characters in green ink. Above was stamped in red letters the words “New York Day Time.” The price was written plainly across the face. “Now, I’ll mark it,” said Coffin. “You can mark a ’high-low’ system that is pretty sure to win, but it’s too difficult for me—I was never much of a Dazmaraz at the higher mathematics. So I’ll play a ’straight’ ticket. That is: I mark out ten spots anywhere I please. There are twenty winning numbers, and on a fifteen-dollar ticket if I catch five of them I get thirty dollars; six pays two hundred and seventy dollars, seven pays twenty-four hundred dollars, and eight spots pull down the capital prize. If more than one ticket wins a prize the money is divided _pro rata_, so we don’t know what we win till the tickets are cashed in, downstairs in the office.”