Harvey seemed uncommunicative. Studying his hand, he asked in a sour way whether it was a jackpot, and upon being told that it was not, pushed forward some chips and looked stupidly up--though Harvey was by no means stupid. "Proud to know you, sir," said Bill, bending frankly as he put out his hand. "Proud to know any friend of Murray Sinclair's. What might be your business?"
Again Du Sang appeared abstracted. He looked up at the giant lineman, who, in spite of his own size and strength, could have crushed him between his fingers, and hitched his chair a little, but got no further toward an answer and paid no attention whatever to Bill's extended hand.
"Cow business, Bill," interposed Sinclair. "Where? Why, up near the park, Bill, up near the park. Bill is an old friend of mine, Harvey. Shake hands with George Seagrue, Bill, and you know Henry Karg--and old Stormy Gorman--well, I guess you know him too," exclaimed Sinclair, introducing the other players. "Look here a minute, Harvey."
Harvey, much against his inclination, was drawn from the table and retired with Sinclair and Dancing to an empty corner, where Dancing told his story again. At the conclusion of it Harvey rather snorted. Sinclair asked questions. "Was anybody else there when you saw McCloud, Bill?"
"Slender man and kind of odd talking, with a sandy mustache."
"He told me his name, but it's skipped me, I declare. He's kind of dark-complected like."
"Stranger, eh?" mused Du Sang; his eyes were wandering over the room.
"Slender man," repeated Bill, "but I didn't take much notice of him. Said he was in the real-estate business."
"In the real-estate business? And did he sit there while you talked this over with the college guy?" muttered Du Sang.
"He is all right, boys, and he said you'd know his name if I could speak it," declared Bill.
"Look anything like that man standing with his hands in his pockets over there by the wheel?" asked Du Sang, turning his back carefully on a new-comer as he made the suggestion.
"Where--there? No! Yes, hold on, that's the man there now! Hold on, now!" urged Bill, struggling with the excitement of ten hours and ten dollars all in one day. "His name sounded like Fogarty."
As Dancing spoke, Sinclair's eyes riveted on the new face at the other side of the gambling-room. "Fogarty, hell!" he exclaimed, starting. "Stand right still, Du Sang; don't look around. That man is Whispering Smith."