He had
heard of the absinthe drinkers of Paris, and he wondered no longer at
the deadly fascination of the liquor--not realising that his extreme
weakness and the emptiness of his stomach made him peculiarly
susceptible to its effects.
"This will do us good," murmured the stranger, setting down his glass.
"Presently we shall have more. Meanwhile, tell me if you know how to
play with the dice."
Carringer replied that he did not.
"I was afraid that you might not," said the stranger. "All the same,
please go to the bar and bring a dice-box. I would ring for it," he
explained, seeing Carringer glance towards the bell, "but I don't want
the waiters coming in and out."
Carringer brought the dice-box, closed the door carefully again, and
the play began. It was not one of the simpler games, but had
complications in which judgment as well as chance played a part. After
a game or two without stakes, the stranger said:
"You have picked it up very quickly. All the same, I will show you that
you don't understand it. We will throw for a dollar a game, and in that
way I shall win the money that you received in change.
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