You stumble over your own fingers; they're too long; or perhaps it's that ring of yours." A curious, almost ghastly glance passed involuntarily between the Tressilvains; Portlaw, who was busy lighting a cigar, did not notice it, but Malcourt laughed lightly and ran over the score, adding it up with a nimble accuracy that seemed to stun his relatives.
"Why, look what's here!" he exclaimed, genially displaying a total that, added, balanced all Portlaw's gains and losses to date.

"Why, isn't that curious, Helen! Right off the bat like that!--cricket-bat," he explained affably to Tressilvain, who, as dinner was imminent, had begun fumbling for his check-book.
At Malcourt's suave suggestion, however, instead of drawing a new check he returned Portlaw's check.

Malcourt took it, tore it carefully in two equal parts.
"Half for you, William, half for me," he said gaily.

"My--my! What strange things do happen in cards--and in the British Isles!" The dull flush deepened on Tressilvain's averted face, but Lady Tressilvain, unusually pale, watched her brother persistently during the general conversation that preceded dressing for dinner..