When she raised her head again the gambling scene had changed.  Only three men played—­Hough, Durade, and another.  And even as Allie looked this third player threw his cards into the deck and with silent gesture rose from the table to take a position with the other black-garbed gamblers standing behind Hough.  The blackness of their attire contrasted strongly with the whiteness of their faces.  They had lost gold, which fact meant little to them.  But there was something big and significant in their presence behind Hough.  Gamblers leagued against a crooked gambling-hell!  Durade had lost a fortune, yet not all his fortune.  He seemed a haggard, flaming-eyed wreck of the once debonair Durade.  His hair was wet and dishevelled, his collar was open, his hand wavered.  Blood trickled down from his lower lip.  He saw nothing except the gold, the cards, and that steel-nerved, gray-faced, implacable Hough.  Behind him lined up his gang, nervous, strained, frenzied, with eyes on the gold—­hate-filled, murderous eyes.

Allie slipped into her room, leaving the door ajar so she could peep out, and there she paced the floor, waiting, listening for what she dared not watch.  The gambler Hough would win all that Durade had, and then stake it against her.  That was what Allie believed.  She had no doubts of Hough’s winning her, too, but she doubted if he could take her away.  There would be a fight.  And if there was a fight, then that must be the end of Durade.  For this gambler, Hough, with his unshakable nerve, his piercing eyes, his wonderful white hands, swift as light—­he would at the slightest provocation kill Durade.

Suddenly Allie was arrested by a loud, long suspiration—­a heave of heavy breaths in the room of the gamblers.  A chair scraped, noisily breaking the silence, which instantly clamped down again.

“Durade, you’re done!” It was the cold, ringing voice of Hough.

Allie ran to the door, peeped through the crack.  Durade sat there like a wild beast bound.  Hough stood erect over a huge golden pile on the table.  The others seemed stiff in their tracks.

“There’s a fortune here,” went on Hough, indicating the gold.  “All I had—­all our gentlemen opponents had—­all you had ...  I have won it all!”

Durade’s eyes seemed glued to that dully glistening heap.  He could not even look up at the coldly passionate Hough.

“All!  All!” echoed Durade.

Then Hough, like a striking hawk, bent toward the Spaniard.  “Durade, have you anything more to bet?”

Durade was the only man who moved.  Slowly he arose, shaking in every limb, and not till he became erect did he unrivet his eyes from that yellow heap on the table.

“Senor—­do you—­mock me?” he gasped, hoarsely.

“I offer you my winnings—­all—­for the girl you have here!”

“You are crazy!” ejaculated the Spaniard.