Scarcely noticing this, he drew a
cigar from his pocket, and stuck it unlighted between his teeth. The
large front room upstairs was ablaze with lights, every game in full
operation and surrounded by crowds of devotees. Tobacco smoke in
clouds circled to the low ceiling, and many of the players were noisy
and profane, while the various calls of faro, roulette, keno, and
high-ball added to the confusion and to the din of shuffling feet and
excited exclamations. Hampton glanced about superciliously, shrugging
his shoulders in open contempt--all this was far too coarse, too small,
to awaken his interest. He observed the various faces at the tables--a
habit one naturally forms who has desperate enemies in plenty--and then
walked directly toward the rear of the room. A thick, dingy red
curtain hung there; he held back its heavy folds and stepped within the
smaller apartment beyond.
Three men sat at the single table, cards in hand, and Hampton
involuntarily whistled softly behind his teeth at the first glimpse of
the money openly displayed before them. This was apparently not so bad
for a starter, and his waning interest revived.
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