A dead silence fell on the group. Plainly could be heard the men's
quickened breathing. The shouts and noise from the card parties
blundered through the stillness. Some one tiptoed across and
whispered in the ear of the nearest player. A moment later the
chairs at the two tables scraped back. One of them fell violently
to the floor. Their occupants joined the tense group about the
monte game. All the girls drew near. Only behind the bar the
white-aproned bartenders wiped their glasses with apparent
imperturbability, their eyes, however, on their brass knuckles
hanging just beneath the counter, their ears pricked up for the riot
call.
The gambler pretended to deliberate, his cool, shifty eyes running
over the group before him. A small door immediately behind him
swung slowly ajar an inch or so.
"Got the money?" he asked.
"Have you?" countered Orde.
Apparently satisfied, the man nodded.
"I'll go you, bub, if I lose," said he. "Lay out your money."
Orde counted out nine fifty-dollar bills and five tens. Probably no
one in the group of men standing about had realised quite how much
money five hundred dollars meant until they saw it thus tallied out
before them.
"All right," said the gambler, taking up the cards.
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