"Granted," Trent said tersely, bending over his game.

"You see, Trent," he went on, "you're not a family man, are you?
If you were, you would understand. I've been down in the mire for
years, an utter scoundrel, a poor, weak, broken-down creature. But
I've always kept that picture! It's my little girl! She doesn't
know I'm alive, never will know, but it's all I have to remind me
of her, and I couldn't part with it, could I?"

"You'd be a blackguard if you did," Trent answered curtly.

Monty's face brightened.

"I was sure," he declared, "that upon reflection you would think so.
I was sure of it. I have always found you very fair, Trent, and
very reasonable. Now shall we say two hundred?"

"You seem very anxious for a game," Trent remarked. "Listen, I
will play you for any amount you like, my I 0 U against your I 0 U.
Are you agreeable?"

Monty shook his head. "I don't want your money, Trent," he said.
"You know that I want that brandy. I will leave it to you to name
the stake I am to set up against it."

"As regards that," Trent answered shortly, "I've named the stake;
I'll not consider any other."

Monty's face once more grew black with anger.