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Page 38
"How's that?" said Penfield, staring.
"You couldn't have won against me to-night," P. Sybarite ingenuously
explained; "it could _not_ be done: I am invincible: it
is--_Kismet_!--my Day of Days!"
Penfield laughed discordantly.
"Maybe it looks that way to you. But aren't you a little premature?
You haven't banked that wad yet, you know. Any minute something might
happen to make you think otherwise."
"Nothing like that is going to happen," P. Sybarite retorted with calm
conviction. "The luck's with me at present!"
"And yet," said the other, abandoning his easy pose and sitting up
with a sharpened glance and tone, "you are wrong--quite wrong."
"What makes you think that?" demanded P. Sybarite, finishing his
second glass.
"Because," said his host with a dangerous smile, "I am a desperate
man."
"Oh?" said P. Sybarite thoughtfully.
"Believe me," insisted the other with convincing simplicity: "I'm such
a bum loser, I'm willing to stake my last five hundred on the
proposition that you don't leave this house a dollar richer than you
entered it."
"Done!" said P. Sybarite instantly. "If I get away with it, you pay me
five hundred dollars. Is that right?"
"Exactly!"
"But--where shall we meet to settle the wager?"
Penfield smiled cheerfully. "Dine with me at the Bizarre this evening
at seven."
"If I lose, with pleasure. Otherwise, you are to be my guest."
"It's a bargain."
"And--that being understood," pursued P. Sybarite curiously--"perhaps
you won't mind explaining your grounds for this conspicuous
confidence."
"Not in the least," said the other, pulling comfortably at his
cigar--"that is, if you're willing to come through with a little
information. I'm curious to know how you came to butt in here on my
personal card of introduction. Where did you get it?"
"Found it in a hat left in my possession by a gentleman in a great
hurry, whom I much desired to see again, and therefore--presuming him
to be Mr. Bailey Penfield--came here to find."
"A gentleman unknown to you?"
"Entirely: a tall young man with an ugly mouth; rather fancies
himself, I should say: a bit of a bounder. You recognise this sketch?"
"Perhaps ..." Penfield murmured thoughtfully.
"His name?"
"Maybe he wouldn't thank me for telling you that."
"Very well. Now then: why and how are you going to separate me from my
winnings?"
"By force," said Mr. Penfield with engaging candour. "It desolates me
to descend to rough-neck methods, but I am a larger, stronger man than
you, Mr.--"
"Sybarite," said the little man, flushing, "P.--by the grace of
God!--Sybarite."
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sybarite.... But before we
lose our tempers, what do you say to a fair proposition: leave me what
you have won to-night, and I'll pay it back to the last cent with
interest in less than six months."
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