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Under the Andes by Rex Stout
page 2 of 401 (00%)
and passed inside.

Gaudy, I have said it was, and it needs no other word. Not in
its elements, but in their arrangement.

The rugs and pictures and hangings testified to the taste of the
man who had selected them; but they were abominably disposed, and
there were too many of them.

The room, which was unusually large, held two or three leather
divans, an English buffet, and many easy chairs. A smoking-table,
covered, stood in one corner.

Groups of men were gathered about each of the three roulette
wheels ranged along the farther side. Through a door to the left
could be seen the poker tables, surrounded by grave or jocular
faces. Above the low buzz of conversation there sounded the
continual droning voices of the croupiers as they called the
winning numbers, and an occasional exclamation from a "customer."

I made my way to the center wheel and stood at the rear of the
crowd surrounding it.

The ball rolled; there was a straining of necks amid an intense
silence; then, as the little pellet wavered and finally came to a
rest in the hole number twenty-four a fervent oath of
disappointment came from some one in front of me.

The next moment, rising on tiptoe to look over the intervening
shoulders, I found myself looking into the white face of my
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