Mr. Bootle, otherwise Annie Cory, felt a slight accession of nervousness on entering the hotel to which Mr. Staines hurried as if he were afraid of missing some of the fun going on inside. But, although Annie found herself entering upon a totally new phase of life, she sauntered through the vestibule, and into a large saloon behind Staines, as if she were quite used to the habits of the society to which she was now being introduced. Following the example of her unconscious guide, she seated herself at a small table, and ordered a drink of brandy. Her reason for ordering brandy was soon apparent. While keenly taking note of all that transpired around her, she only feigned to drink, and after a while, watching her opportunity, she deftly substituted an empty glass for the one she was supposed to be using. In this way she fairly accounted for her presence in the place without appearing to be an unprofitable customer. Her next proceeding was to follow Mr. Staines into a side-room, in the centre of which stood a table, round which were seated some men playing at cards. The game was being watched by about a score of onlookers, and it was easy to stand among them and elude special observation. After about twenty minutes spent impatiently by Mr. Staines, that gentleman found someone to play with him, and was forthwith transformed into a happy man, for his adversary, though not an inexperienced player, was too excitable to stand the smallest chance of beating such a combination of skill, coolness, and knavery as now confronted him. Mr. Staines, although his luck was almost miraculous, seemed to have as yet aroused no suspicions of unfair play. Now and again he lost a trifle, but Mr. Bootle concluded that these occasional losses were deliberately effected solely for the purpose of preserving the confidence and stimulating the gambling propensities of the people whose money the unscrupulous fellow meant to win. “I think I will drop it,” said Mr. Staines at last, putting his winnings into his pocket. “Luck seems all my way to-night, and I don’t think it fair to go on playing, for I have no wish to skin anybody out.” But this show of consideration for others had precisely the effect anticipated by the speaker. The majority of his hearers were English, and they did not relish the imputation of unskilfulness thus adroitly thrown upon them. “No, sir,” said a tall, military-looking man, whose eyes were already bright between the excitement of play and the worship of Bacchus. “It is not good enough to excuse yourself in that way just when luck is on the point of turning. I demand my revenge, and these gentlemen will all agree that I am right, eh?” There was an immediate chorus of approval from the onlookers to whom the speaker appealed. “Yes, yes; give him his revenge,” was the cry. “For my part,” added a fast young subaltern, “I think it deuced mean to want to leave off at such a critical time.”