“So you’ve won Bill’s confidences already, have you?” he said without the slightest trace of shame or discomfiture. “Dear old Bill! He actually seemed to be under the impression that he had a title to that money—until I suggested otherwise. I ask you, Treplin, as a man with a trained if not an efficient mind, is Bill Sheedy a proper man to possess the title to ninety-eight dollars?” He swung across the room, laughing heartily, and reached into the cupboard for Scotty’s whiskey. As he did so his eyes fell upon the cards which Scotty was placing upon the table, and for the first time Toppy saw in his eyes the gleam of a human weakness. Reivers stood, paused, for an instant, his eyes feasting upon the cards. It was only an instant, but it was enough to whisper to Toppy the secret of the Snow-Burner’s passion for play. And Toppy exulted at this chance discovery of the vulnerable joint in Reivers’ armour; for Toppy—alas for his misspent youth!—was a master-warrior when a deck of cards was the field of battle. “It’s none of my funeral, Reivers,” he said carelessly, strolling over to the table where Campbell went on playing, apparently oblivious to the conversation. “I don’t know anything about Sheedy. Of course, if you’re serious, the Torta boys are the only ones in camp who’ve got any right to the money.” Reivers stopped short in the act of pouring himself a drink. Campbell, with his back toward Reivers, paused with a card in his hand. Toppy yawned and dropped into a chair from which he could watch Campbell’s game. “But that’s none of my business,” he said as if dropping the subject. “There’s a chance for your black queen, Scotty.” Reivers poured himself his tumbler full of Scotch whiskey, drew up a third chair to the table and sat down across from Toppy. The latter apparently was absorbed in watching Campbell’s solitaire. Reivers took a long, contented sip of his fiery tipple and smiled pleasantly. “You turned loose an idea there, Treplin,” he said. “But can you make your premise stand argument? Are you sure that the Torta boys are the ones who have a right to that ninety-eight dollars? On what grounds do you give them the exclusive title to the money?” “It’s theirs. Bill stole it from them. You said he did. That’s all I know about it,” said Toppy, scarcely raising his eyes from the cards. “Why do you say it was theirs, Treplin?” persisted Reivers smilingly. “Merely because they had it in their possession! Isn’t that so? You don’t know how they came by it, but because they had it in their possession you speak of it as theirs. Very well. Bill Sheedy took it away from them. It was in his possession, so, following your line of logic, it was his—for a short while.