news; all the rest of the space on these and the entire fourth page was
again crowded close with the short advertisements. They told of the arrival
of ships, the consignment of goods, the movements of real estate, the sales
of stock, but mainly of auctions. The man paid little attention to the
scanty news, and none at all to the editorials. His name was John Sherwood,
and he was a powerful and respected public gambler.

The approach across the Plaza of a group of men caused him to lay aside his
paper, and with it his spectacles. The doffing of the latter strangely
changed his whole expression. The philosophical middle-aged quietude fell
from him. He became younger, keener, more alert. It was as though he had
removed a disguise.

The group approaching were all young men, and all dressed in the height of
fashion. At that rather picturesque time this implied the flat-brimmed
beaver hat; the long swallowtail, or skirted coat; the tight "pantaloons";
varicoloured, splendid, low-cut waistcoats of satin, of velvet, or of
brocade; high wing collars; varnished boots; many sparkling, studs and
cravat pins; rather longish hair; and whiskers cut close to the cheek or
curling luxuriantly under the chin. They were prosperous, well-fed,
arrogant-looking youths, carrying their crests high, the light of questing
recklessness in their eyes, ready to laugh, drink, or fight with anybody.
At sight of Sherwood they waved friendly hands, and canes, and veered in
his direction.

"Yo're just the man we are looking for!" cried a tall, dark, graceful young
fellow, "We are all 'specially needful of wisdom. The drinks are on some
one, and we cain't decide who."

John Sherwood, his keen eyes twinkling, set his chair down on four legs.