immediate predecessor, and was "potted" at long distances.

"By Jove!" exclaimed he, sulkily, upon losing his last life by a double,
"you must have lived by your wits, young gentleman, to have learned to
play pool like that."

"I have," returned Yorke, without moving a muscle, and preparing to
strike again. "You will come to do the same, if you play much at this
game--but your sad end will not be protracted. You will starve to death
with considerable rapidity."

"My dear Mr. Yorke," said Byam Ryll, approvingly, "you have won my
heart, though I can't afford to let you win my sovereigns; I like you,
but I must kill you off, I see."

"Unless--" said Yorke.

"Unless what?" inquired Ryll, as he made his stroke at Yorke's ball,
which was quite safe, and grazed it with his own, which, gliding off
another ball, found its way into a pocket. For once, he had really
allowed himself to be "put off" his aim.

"Unless you commit suicide," replied the young fellow, smiling. "I was
about to warn you of the danger of that kiss."

"You are worse than a highway robber, young Sir," said the annoyed old
gentleman.

"That's true," returned Yorke, "for I take your money and your 'life.'"