“You want to be careful—­you are dealing with a smooth crowd!  Smoother even than the men in the Trust, I fancy.”  And the little man added, with a twinkle in his eye:  “I’m accustomed to say there are two kinds of rascals in the oil business; there are the rascals who found they could rely upon each other, and they are in the Trust; and there are the rascals the devil himself couldn’t rely upon, and they’re the independents.  I ought to know what I’m talking about, because I was an independent myself.”

Mr. Gamble chuckled gleefully over this witticism, which was evidently one which he relied upon for the making of conversation.  “How do you do, Captain?” he said, to a man who was passing.  “Mr. Montague, let me introduce my friend Captain Gill.”

Montague turned and faced a tall and dignified-looking naval officer.  “Captain Henry Gill, of the Allegheny.”

“How do you, Mr. Montague?” said the Captain.

“Oliver Montague’s brother,” added Gamble, by way of further introduction.  And then, espying someone else coming whom he knew, he waddled off down the room, leaving Montague in conversation with the officer.

Captain Gill was in command of one of the half-dozen vessels which the government obligingly sent to assist in maintaining the gaieties of the Newport season.  He was an excellent dancer, and a favourite with the ladies, and an old crony of Mrs. De Graffenried’s.  “Have you known Mr. Gamble long?” he asked, by way of making conversation.

“I met him once before,” said Montague.  “My brother knows him.”

“Ollie seems to be a great favourite of his,” said the Captain.  “Queer chap.”

Montague assented readily.

“I met him in Brooklyn,” continued the other, seeming to feel that acquaintance with Gamble called for explanation.  “He was quite chummy with the officers at the Navy Yard.  Retired millionaires don’t often fall in their way.”

“I should imagine not,” said Montague, smiling.  “But I was surprised to meet him here.”

“You’d meet him in heaven,” said the other, with a laugh, “if he made up his mind that he wanted to go there.  He is a good-natured personage; but I can tell you that anyone who thinks that Gamble doesn’t know what he’s about will make a sad mistake.”

Montague thought of this remark at lunch, where he sat at table on the opposite side to Gamble.  Next to him sat Vivie Fatten, who made the little man the victim of her raillery.  It was not particularly delicate wit, but Gamble was tough, and took it all with a cheerful grin.