downwards. But the man next to him, an Englishman named Norton, dived
also, and it was he who, after a moment, righted himself with something
shining in his hand which he proceeded grimly to display to the whole
assembled company. It was a small, folding mirror--little more than a
toy, it looked--with a pin attached to its leathern back.

Deliberately Norton turned it over, examining it in such a way that
others might examine it too. Then, having concluded his investigation of
this very simple contrivance, he slapped it down upon the table with a
gesture of unutterable contempt.

"The secret of success," he observed.

Every one present looked at Archie, who had sunk back in his chair white
to the lips. He seemed to be trying to say something, but nothing came
of it.

And then, quite calmly, ending a silence more terrible than any tumult
of words, another voice made itself heard.

"Even so, Mr. Norton." West bent forward and with the utmost composure
possessed himself of the shining thing upon the table. "This is my
property. I have been rooking you fellows all the evening."

The avowal was so astounding and made with such complete _sang-froid_
that no one uttered a word. Only every one turned from Archie to stare
at the man who thus serenely claimed his own.

He proceeded with unvarying coolness to explain himself.