"I'm playing my best," explained Rudolph, sulkily.

"Then your best is the worst I ever saw! Better learn, before sitting
in!"

Chantel laughed, without merriment; Rudolph flung down his cards,
stalked to the window, and stood looking out, in lonely, impotent rage.
A long time passed, marked by alarming snores from the billiard-table.
The half-naked watchers played on, in ferocious silence. The night wore
along without relief.

Hours might have lapsed, when Dr. Chantel broke out as though the talk
had but paused a moment.

"So it goes!" he sneered. "Fools will always sit in, when they do not
know. They rush into the water, also, and play the hero!"

Again his laughter was brief but malignant. Heywood had left his cards,
risen, and crossing the room, stood looking over Rudolph's shoulder into
the snowy moonlight. On the shoulder his hand rested, as by accident.

"It's the heat, old chap," he said wearily. "Don't mind what we say
to-night."

Rudolph made no sign, except to move from under his hand, so that, with
their quarrel between them, the two men stared out across the blanched
roofs and drooping trees, where long black shadows at last crept
toward the dawn.