"A gambler has a certain way of masking his own face and looking at yours, as if he were dragging your thoughts out through your eyes; also, he's very cool; he belongs at a table with the cards on it and the stakes high." The door opened.

"Here's young Rose.

He'll tell us the truth of the matter.

Has she come back, Rose ?" The young fellow kept far back in the shadow, and, when he spoke, his voice was uncertain, almost to the point of trembling.

"No," he managed to say, "she ain't come back, chief." Mark stared at him for a moment and then slowly opened a cigarette case and lighted a smoke.