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Page 30
"A friendly little game," she speculated. "What IS the game?"
That night found Constance at the buzzer beside the heavy mahogany
door across the hall. She wore a new evening gown of warm red. Her
face glowed with heightened color, and her nerves were on the qui
vive for the unlocking at last of the mystery of the fascinating
Mrs. LeMar.
"So glad to see you, my dear," smiled Bella, holding out her hand
engagingly. "You are just in time."
Already several of the guests had arrived. There was an air of
bonhomie as Bella presented them to Constance--a stocky, red-faced
man with a wide chest and narrow waist, Ross Watson; a tall,
sloping-shouldered man who inclined his head forward earnestly when
he talked to a lady and spoke with animation, Haddon Halsey; and a
fair-haired, baby-blue eyed little woman gowned in becoming pink,
Mrs. Lansing Noble.
"Now we're all here--just enough for a game," remarked Bella in a
business-like tone. "Oh, I beg pardon--you play, Mrs. Dunlap?" she
added to Constance.
"Oh, yes," Constance replied. "Almost anything--a little bit."
She had already noted that the chief object in the room, after all,
appeared to be a round table. About it the guests seemed naturally
to take their places.
"What shall it be to-night--bridge?" asked Watson, nonchalantly
fingering a little pack of gilt-edged cards which Bella had
produced.
"Oh, no," cried Mrs. Noble. "Bridge is such a bore."
"Rum?"
"No--no. The regular game--poker."
"A dollar limit?"
"Oh, make it five," drawled Halsey impatiently.
Watson said nothing, but Bella patted Halsey's hand in approval, as
if all were on very good terms indeed. "I think that will make a
nice little game," she cut in, opening a drawer from which she took
out a box of blue, red and white chips of real ivory. Watson seemed
naturally to assume the role of banker.
"Aren't you going to join us?" asked Constance.
"Oh, I seldom play. You know, I'm too busy entertaining you people,"
excused Bella, as she bustled out of the room, reappearing a few
minutes later with the maid and a tray of slender hollow-stemmed
glasses with a bottle wrapped in a white napkin in a pail of ice.
Mrs. Noble shuffled the cards with practiced hand and Watson kept a
calculating eye on every face. Luck was not with Constance on the
first deal and she dropped out.
Mrs. Noble and Halsey were betting eagerly. Watson was coolly
following along until the show-down--which he won.
"Of all things," exclaimed the little woman in pink, plainly
betraying her vexation at losing. "Will luck never turn?"
Halsey said nothing.
Constance watched in amazement. This was no "friendly little game."
The faces were too tense, too hectic. The play was too high, and the
desire to win too great. Mrs. LeMar was something more than a
gracious hostess in her solicitude for her guests.
All the time the pile of chips in front of Watson kept building up.
At each new deal a white chip was placed in a little box--the kitty
--for the "cards and refreshments."
It was in reality one of the new style gambling joints for men and
women.
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