Around tables were congregated men, young and old, each with an intent look, watching the varying chances of fortune.
"I'll inquire if Mr.Barnes is here," said Peter, the colored servant.
Ben stood uneasily looking at the scene till Peter came back.
"Must be some mistake," he said.

"There's no gentleman of the name of Barnes here." "It's strange," said Ben, perplexed.
He turned to go out, but was interrupted.

A man with a sinister expression, and the muscle of a prize fighter, walked up to him and said, with a scowl: "What brings you here, kid ?" "I received a letter from Mr.Barnes, appointing to meet me here." "I believe you are lying.

No such man comes here." "I never lie," exclaimed Ben indignantly.
"Have you got that letter about you ?" asked the man suspiciously.
Ben felt in his pocket for the letter, but felt in vain.
"I think I must have left it at home," he said nervously.
The man's face darkened.
"I believe you come here as a spy," he said.
"Then you are mistaken!" said Ben, looking him fearlessly in the face.
"I hope so, for your sake.

Do you know what kind of a place this is ?" "I suppose it is a gambling house," Ben answered, without hesitation.
"Did you know this before you came here ?" "I had not the least idea of it." The man regarded him suspiciously, but no one could look into Ben's honest face and doubt his word.
"At any rate, you've found it out.