"For Heaven's sake give me a stack of chips and shut up!" shouted Westguard, jumping to his feet and striding to the table. "Everybody on earth is competent to write a book except an author, but I defy anybody to play my poker hands for me! Come on, Dankmere! Let's clean out this complacent crowd!" Lord Dankmere complied, and seated himself at the table, anxiously remarking to Quarren that he had come to America to acquire capital, not to spend it. Sir Charles laughed and dealt; Westguard drew five cards, attempted to bluff Quarren's full hand, and was scandalously routed. Again the cards were dealt and O'Hara bet the limit; and the Earl of Dankmere came back with an agonised burst of chips that scared out Lacy and Sir Charles and left Quarren thinking. When finally the dust of combat blew clear of the scene Dankmere's stacks were nearly gone, and Quarren's had become symmetrical sky-scrapers. Lacy said to Dankmere: "Now that you've learned how to get poor quickly you're better prepared for the study of riches and how to acquire 'em. Kindly pass the buck unless your misfortunes have paralysed you." "The whole country," said his lordship, "is nothing but one gigantic poker game. I sail on the next steamer. I'm bluffed out." "Poor old Dankmere," purred Lacy, "won't the ladies love you?" "Their demonstrations," said the Earl, "are not keeping me awake nights." "Something keeps Quarren awake nights, judging by his transom light. Is it love, Ricky?" A slight colour mounted to Quarren's thin cheeks, but he answered carelessly: "I read late sometimes.... How many cards do you want?" Sir Charles Mallison turned his head after a moment and looked at Quarren; and meeting his eye, said pleasantly: "I only want one card, Quarren. Please give me the right one." "Which?" "The Queen of Hearts." "Dealer draws one also," said the young fellow. Sir Charles laid down his hand with a smile: "Did _you_ fill?" he asked Quarren as everybody else remained out. "I don't mind showing," said Quarren sorting out his cards, faces up. "Which end?" inquired O'Hara. "An interior." And he touched the Queen of Hearts, carelessly. "Crazy playing and lunatic's luck," commented Lacy. "Dankmere, and you, too, Sir Charles, you'd better cut and run for home as fast as your little legs can toddle. Quarren is on the loose." Sir Charles laughed, glanced at Quarren, then turned to Dankmere. "It's none of my business," he said, "but if you really are in the devilish financial straits you pretend to be, why don't you square up things and go into trade?" "Square things?" repeated the little Earl mournfully; "will somebody tell me how? Haven't I been trying out everything? Didn't I back a musical comedy of sorts? Didn't I even do a turn in it myself?" "That's what probably smashed it," observed O'Hara. "He did it very well," laughed Sir Charles.