"Rich," I amended.

"All depends on what you call rich. Besides, I'm not the sort of
fellow who's content with three per cent. A couple of months ago--I tell
you this in confidence--I risked virtually all I had in an Argentine deal."

"And lost it?"

"No; as a matter of fact, I made rather a good thing out of it. I did
rather well last February, too. But there's no knowing the future. A few
errors of judgment, a war here, a revolution there, a big strike somewhere
else, and--" He blew a jet of smoke from his lips, and then looked at me
as at one whom he could trust to feel for him in a crash already come.

My sympathy lagged, and I stuck to the point of my inquiry.

"Meanwhile," I suggested, "and all the more because you aren't
merely a rich man, but also an active taker of big risks, how can these
tiny little baccarat risks give you so much emotion?"

"There you rather have me," he laughed. "I've often wondered at
that myself. I suppose," he puzzled it out, "I do a good lot of
make-believe. While I'm playing a game like this game to-night, I
IMAGINE the stakes are huge. And I IMAGINE I haven't
another penny in the world."

"Ah, so that with you it's always a life-and-death affair?"

He looked away.