So he sorted snell and hook and explored the tin trunk for hackles, silks, and feathers, up to his bony wrists in the fluffy heap of brilliant plumage, burrowing, busy as a burying beetle under a dead bird.

Malcourt dropped his letter into the post-box, glanced uncertainly in the direction of his wife, but as she did not lift her head from her sewing, turned with a shrug and crossed the floor to where Portlaw stood scowling and sucking at his empty pipe.

“Look at that horrid little brother-in-law of mine with his ferret eyes and fox face, fussing around those feathers—­as though he had just caught and eaten the bird that wore them!”

Portlaw continued to scowl.

“Suppose we take them on at cards,” suggested Malcourt.

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“They’ve taken a thousand out of me already.”

Malcourt said quietly:  “You’ve never before given such a reason for discontinuing card-playing.  What’s your real reason?”

Portlaw was silent.

“Did you quit a thousand to the bad, Billy?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then why not get it back?”

“I don’t care to play,” said Portlaw shortly.

The eyes of the two men met.

“Are you, by any chance, afraid of our fox-faced guest?” asked Malcourt suavely.

“I don’t care to give any reason, I tell you.”

“That’s serious; as there could be only one reason.  Did you think you noticed—­anything?”

“I don’t know what I think....  I’ve half a mind to stop payment on that check—­if that enlightens you any.”

“There’s an easier way,” said Malcourt coolly.  “You know how it is in sparring?  You forecast what your opponent is going to do and you stop him before he does it.”

“I’m not certain that he—­did it,” muttered Portlaw.  “I can’t afford to make a mistake by kicking out your brother-in-law.”

“Oh, don’t mind me—­”

“I wouldn’t if I were sure....  I wish I had that thousand back; it drives me crazy to think of losing it—­in that way—­”

“Oh; then you feel reasonably sure—­”

“No, confound it....  The backs of the aces were slightly rough—­but I can scarcely believe—­”

“Have you a magnifying glass?”

The pack has disappeared....  I meant to try that.”

“My dear fellow,” said Malcourt calmly, “it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest to learn that Tressilvain is a blackguard.  It’s easy enough to get your thousand back.  Shall we?”

“How?”

Malcourt sauntered over to a card table, seated himself, motioned Portlaw to the chair opposite, and removed the cover from a new pack.

Then, to Portlaw’s astonishment, he began to take aces and court cards from any part of the pack at his pleasure; any card that Portlaw called for was produced unerringly.  Then Malcourt dealt him unbelievable hands—­all of a colour, all of a suit, all the cards below the tens, all above; and Portlaw, fascinated, watched the dark, deft fingers nimbly dealing, shuffling, until his senses spun round; and when Malcourt finally tore up all the aces, and then, ripping the green baize cover from the table, disclosed the four aces underneath, intact, Portlaw, petrified, only stared at him out of distended eyes.