Bloated though he was with lawless wealth and fat with insufferable
self-satisfaction, P. Sybarite, trotting by the side of his host, was
dwarfed alike in dignity and in physique, strongly resembling an
especially cocky and ragged Airedale being tolerated by a well-groomed
St. Bernard.
Now when Pete had placed a plate of caviare sandwiches between them,
and filled their glasses from a newly opened bottle, he withdrew from
the lounge and closed the door behind him; whether or not at a sign
from Penfield, P. Sybarite was unaware; though as soon as they were
alone and private, he grew unpleasantly sensitive to a drop in the
temperature of the entente cordiale which had thus far obtained
between himself and the gambler. Penfield's eyes promptly lost much of
their genial glow, and simultaneously his face seemed weirdly less
plump and rosy with prosperity and contentment. Notwithstanding this,
with no loss of manner, he lifted a ceremonious glass to the health of
his guest.
"Congratulations!" said he; and drank as a thirsty man drinks.
"May your shadow never grow less!" P. Sybarite returned, putting down
an empty glass.
"That's a perfectly good wish plumb wasted," said Penfield, refilling
both glasses, his features twisted in the wriest of grimaces. "Fact
is--I don't mind telling you--your luck to-night has, I'm afraid,
played the very devil with me. This house won't open up again until I
raise another bank-roll."
"My sympathy," said P. Sybarite, sipping. "I'm really distressed....
And yet," he added thoughtfully, "you had no chance--none whatever."
"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."