And now at the sight of Sargeant in the
"round window" of the main room, buried in the file of the "Gil
Blas," Condy was pleased to note that neither of them had
forgotten the matter.
Sargeant greeted him with extreme cordiality as he came up, and at
once proposed a drink. Sargeant was a sleek, well-groomed, well-
looking fellow of thirty, just beginning to show the effects of a
certain amount of dissipation in the little puffs under the eyes
and the faint blueness of the temples. The sudden death of his
father for which event Sargeant was still mourning, had left him
in such position that his monthly income was about five times as
large as Condy's salary. The two had supper together, and
Sargeant proposed the theatre.
"No, no; I've got to work to-night," asserted Condy.
After dinner, while they were smoking their cigars in a window of
the main room, one of the hall-boys came up and touched Condy on
the arm.
"Mr. Eckert, and Mr. Hendricks, and Mr. George Hands, and several
other of those gentlemen are up in the card-room, and are asking
for you and Mr. Sargeant."
"Why, I didn't know the boys were here! They've got a game going,
Condy. Let's go up and get in. Shall we?"
Condy remembered that he had no money. "I'm flat broke, Tracy,"
he announced, for he knew Sargeant well enough to make the
confession without wincing. "No, I'll not get in; but I'll go up
and watch you a few minutes."
They ascended to the card-room, where the air was heavy and acrid
with cigar smoke, and where the silence was broken only by the
click of poker-chips.
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