As they neared the card room they heard female voices raised in entreaty, saying: “Oh, Mr. Edwards, please do show us. We are at the mercy of all the society people and they put on such airs. We do not know how to play poker, and they cannot see what kind of training we have had. If you do refuse we shall never be happy, for we shall be forever shut out of good society.” Much more and in many different voices was said, until it seemed that the person to whom the appeals were made consented. Then there was a chorus of thanks. By this time the leader of the smart set and the newspaper man were in the room. They stood and gazed at the scene before them. There were tables all around the room. Players were seated at nearly all of them. The young man noted that some played whist, others preferred euchre, while still others played seven-up and beggar-my-neighbor and other old and innocuous games, but many were playing poker. The cards were all right but there was a total absence of chips or money. All the betting was done with pebbles. The players were totally oblivious to everything going on around them. The professional gambler was pointed out to the director of the ceremonies and he stood a little while looking at the man he was to put out. He was by all odds the biggest ghost there. His shoulders were broad and his arms long and massive. The leader stood thinking whether it would be quite safe to argue with him. He had always been a man of peace, and the only battles he had ever fought were those pertaining to matters of dispute in the social ranks above ground. He had been peacemaker there so often that he sometimes wondered that they had not killed each other off like Kilkenny cats. So he watched the gambler, and waited until he should do something which he might claim to be against the rules governing the conduct of affairs in this card room. One or two of the oldest whist players came to him and endeavored to convince him that it was his duty to interfere before the professional gambler had contaminated the minds of the lady ghosts by his presence. These ladies were preparing to learn to play poker. But each time that he looked at the giant proportions of this ghost the leader felt that it was not his business to interfere. If they wanted to learn what did it matter to him? Finally, at the urgent requests of the others, he plucked up courage and strode over to Edwards with all the superhuman dignity of a hopelessly small man, and with an air that admitted of no discussion, said: “Sir; I hear that you are a professional gambler. If that is so I must request you to retire from the presence of these ladies. This is a very exclusive part of the underground world—” “Are you St. Peter?” asked Edwards, quietly.