That night at poker at the club Peter sat next to Prince Abdul, who had come from a reception at the Grand vizier's and still wore his decorations. Decorations now fascinated Peter, and those on the coat of the young prince he regarded with wide-eyed awe. He also regarded Abdul with wide-eyed awe, because he was the favorite nephew of the Sultan, and because he enjoyed the reputation of having the worst reputation in Turkey. Peter wondered why. He always had found Abdul charming, distinguished, courteous to the verge of humility, most cleverly cynical, most brilliantly amusing. At poker he almost invariably won, and while doing so was so politely bored, so indifferent to his cards and the cards held by others, that Peter declared he had never met his equal. In a pause in the game, while some one tore the cover off a fresh pack, Peter pointed at the star of diamonds that nestled behind the lapel of Abdul's coat. “May I ask what that is?” said Peter. The prince frowned at his diamond sunburst as though it annoyed him, and then smiled delightedly. “It is an order,” he said in a quick aside, “bestowed only upon men of world-wide fame. I dined to-night,” he explained, “with your charming compatriot, Mr. Joseph Stimson.” “And Joe told?” said Peter. The prince nodded. “Joe told,” he repeated; “but it is all arranged. Your distinguished friend, the Sage of Stillwater, will receive the Crescent of the third class.” Peter's eyes were still fastened hungrily upon the diamond sunburst. “Why,” he demanded, “can't some one get him one like that?” As though about to take offense the prince raised his eyebrows, and then thought better of it and smiled. “There are only two men in all Turkey,” he said, “who could do that.” “And is the Sultan the other one?” asked Peter. The prince gasped as though he had suddenly stepped beneath a cold shower, and then laughed long and silently. “You flatter me,” he murmured. “You know you could if you liked!” whispered Peter stoutly. Apparently Abdul did not hear him. “I will take one card,” he said. Toward two in the morning there was seventy-five thousand francs in the pot, and all save Prince Abdul and Peter had dropped out. “Will you divide?” asked the prince. “Why should I?” said Peter. “I've got you beat now. Do you raise me or call?” The prince called and laid down a full house. Peter showed four tens. “I will deal you one hand, double or quits,” said the prince. Over the end of his cigar Peter squinted at the great heap of mother-of-pearl counters and gold-pieces and bank-notes. “You will pay me double what is on the table,” he said, “or you quit owing me nothing.” The prince nodded. “Go ahead,” said Peter.