"Upon my word," the Lieutenant reflected, "this is one of the
pleasantest fellows and, I do not doubt, one of the most agreeable
societies in London."
He partook of some champagne, which he found excellent; and
observing that many of the company were already smoking, he lit one
of his own Manillas, and strolled up to the roulette board, where
he sometimes made a stake and sometimes looked on smilingly on the
fortune of others. It was while he was thus idling that he became
aware of a sharp scrutiny to which the whole of the guests were
subjected. Mr. Morris went here and there, ostensibly busied on
hospitable concerns; but he had ever a shrewd glance at disposal;
not a man of the party escaped his sudden, searching looks; he took
stock of the bearing of heavy losers, he valued the amount of the
stakes, he paused behind couples who were deep in conversation;
and, in a word, there was hardly a characteristic of any one
present but he seemed to catch and make a note of it. Brackenbury
began to wonder if this were indeed a gambling hell: it had so
much the air of a private inquisition. He followed Mr. Morris in
all his movements; and although the man had a ready smile, he
seemed to perceive, as it were under a mask, a haggard, careworn,
and preoccupied spirit. The fellows around him laughed and made
their game; but Brackenbury had lost interest in the guests.
"This Morris," thought he, "is no idler in the room.
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