was waiting for him.

So, swearing under his frosty breath, he went to the cloak-room, got
into his fur coat, walked back to the card-room and gazed wrathfully
upon the festivities.

"What did my hand do, Bill?" he inquired glumly, when at last the
scorer picked up his pad and the dealer politely shoved the pack
toward his neighbour for cutting.

"You ruined me with your four silly hearts," replied the man who had
taken his cards. "Did you think you were playing coon-can?"

"Sorry, Bill. Sit in for me, there's a good chap. I'm not likely to
be back to-night--hang it!"

Perfunctory regrets were offered by the others, already engrossed in
their new hands; Vaux glanced unhappily at the tall, steaming glass,
which had been untouched when he left, but which was now merely half
full. Then, with another lingering look at the cheerful fire, he
sighed, buttoned his fur coat, placed his hat firmly upon his
carefully parted hair, and walked out to perish bravely for his
native land.

On the sidewalk a raccoon-furred chauffeur stepped up with all the
abandon of a Kadiak bear:

"Mr. Vaux, sir?"

"Yes."