light them.

Behind the bar as the game proceeded the woman who knelt beside Lady Jane
listened to every sound. Her eyes grew more agonised as the numbers,
whispered to her by her companion, climbed to the fatal ten.

The last deal was Shon's; there was that much to his advantage. As he
slowly dealt, the woman--Lucy Rives--rose to her feet behind Lady Jane.
So absorbed were all that none saw her. Her eyes passed from Pierre to
Shon, and stayed.

When the cards were dealt, with but one point for either to gain, and so
win and save his life, there was a slight pause before the two took them
up. They did not look at one another; but each glanced at the revolver,
then at the men nearest them, and lastly, for an instant, at the cards
themselves, with their pasteboard faces of life and death turned
downward. As the players picked them up at last and spread them out fan-
like, Lady Jane slipped something into the hand of Lucy Rives.

Those who stood behind Shon McGann stared with anxious astonishment at
his hand; it contained only nine and ten spots. It was easy to see the
direction of the sympathy of Pipi Valley. The Irishman's face turned a
slight shade paler, but he did not tremble or appear disturbed.

Pierre played his biggest card and took the point. He coolly counted
one, and said, "Game. I win." The crowd drew back. Both rose to their
feet. In the painful silence the half-breed's hand was gently laid on
the revolver. He lifted it, and paused slightly, his eyes fixed to the
steady look in those of Shon McGann. He raised the revolver again, till
it was level with Shon's forehead, till it was even with his hair! Then