Monty nodded, for his tongue was hot and his mouth dry, and speech
was not an easy thing. But he dealt the cards, one by one with
jealous care, and when he had finished he snatched upon his own,
and looked at each with sickly disappointment.

"How many?" Trent asked, holding out the pack. Monty hesitated,
half made up his mind to throw away three cards, then put one upon
the table. Finally, with a little whine, he laid three down with
trembling fingers and snatched at the three which Trent handed him.
His face lit up, a scarlet flush burned in his cheek. It was
evident that the draw had improved his hand.

Trent took his own cards up, looked at them nonchalantly, and helped
himself to one card. Monty could restrain himself no longer. He
threw his hand upon the ground.

"Three's," he cried in fierce triumph, "three of a kind - nines!"

Trent laid his own cards calmly down.

"A full hand," he said, "kings up."

Monty gave a little gasp and then a moan. His eyes were fixed with
a fascinating glare upon those five cards which Trent had so calmly
laid down. Trent took up the photograph, thrust it carefully into
his pocket without looking at it, and rose to his feet.

"Look here, Monty," he said, "you shall have the brandy; you've no
right to it, and you're best without it by long chalks. But there,