"Not at all," said Cartwright dryly. "I like an exciting game, so long
as it is straight, and when I lose I pay. I do lose, and if I come out
fifty dollars ahead when I leave, I'll be satisfied. How much have you
cleared?"

Shillito said nothing, and Cartwright went on: "My antagonists are old
card-players who know the game; but when you broke Forman he was drunk
and the other two were not quite sober. You play against young fools and
_your luck's too good_. If you force me to tell all I think and
something that I know. I imagine you'll get a straight hint to quit."

"You talked about another plan," Shillito remarked.

"On the whole, I think the plan I've indicated will work. If it does not
and you speak to any member of Mrs. Cartwright's family, I'll thrash you
on the veranda when people are about. I won't state my grounds for doing
so; they ought to be obvious."

Shillito looked at the other hand. Cartwright's eyes were bloodshot, his
face was going purple, and he thrust out his heavy chin. Shillito
thought he meant all he said, and his threat carried weight. The old
fellow was, of course, not a match for the vigorous young man, but
Shillito saw he had the power to do him an injury that was not
altogether physical. He pondered for a few moments, and then got up.

"I'll pull out," he said with a coolness that cost him much.

Cartwright nodded. "There's another thing. If you write to Miss Hyslop,
your letters will be burned."