Hearts and Masks | Page 6

Well, it was none of my business; doubtless he knew what he was doing. I coughed suggestively, and Friard came slipping in my direction again.
"This is what I want. How much?" I inquired.
[Illustration: "This is what I want. How much?" I inquired.]
"Fifty cents; it has never been worn."
I drew out my wallet. I had arrived in town too late to go to the bank, and I was carrying an uncomfortably large sum in gold-bills. As I opened the wallet to extract a small bill, I saw the stranger eying me quietly. Well, well, the dullest being brightens at the sight of money and its representatives. I drew out a small bill and handed it to the proprietor. He took it, together with the mask, and sidled over to the cash-register. The bell gave forth a muffled sound, not unlike that of a fire-bell in a snow-storm. As he was in the act of wrapping up my purchase, I observed the silent customer's approach. When he reached my side he stooped and picked up something from the floor. With a bow he presented it to me.
"I saw it drop from your pocket," he said; and then when he saw what it was, his jaw fell, and he sent me a hot, penetrating glance.
"The ten of hearts!" he exclaimed in amazement.
I laughed easily.
"The ten of hearts!" he repeated.
"Yes; four hearts on one side and four on the other, and two in the middle, which make ten in all,"--raillery in my tones. What the deuce was the matter with everybody to-night? "Marvelous card, isn't it?"
"Very strange!" he murmured, pulling at his lips.
"And in what way is it strange?" I asked, rather curious to learn the cause of his agitation.
"There are several reasons,"--briefly.
"Ah!"
"I have seen a man's hand pinned to that card; therefore it is gruesome."
"Some card-sharper?"
He nodded. "Then again, I lost a small fortune because of that card,"--diffidently.
"Poker?"
"Yes. Why will a man try to fill a royal flush? The man next to me drew the ten of hearts, the very card I needed. The sight of it always unnerves me. I beg your pardon."
"Oh, that's all right," said I, wondering how many more lies he had up his sleeve.
"And there's still another reason. I saw a man put six bullets into the two central spots, and an hour later the seventh bullet snuffed the candle of a friend of mine. I am from the West."
"I can sympathize with you," I returned. "After all that trouble, the sight of the card must have given you a shock."
Then I stowed away the fatal card and took up my bundle and change. I have in my own time tried to fill royal flushes, and the disappointment still lingers with a bitter taste.
"The element of chance is the most fascinating thing there is," the stranger from the West volunteered.
"So it is," I replied, suddenly recalling that I was soon to put my trust in the hands of that very fickle goddess.
He nodded and returned to his revolvers, while I went out of the shop, hailed a cab, and drove up-town to my apartments in Riverside. It was eight o'clock by my watch. I leaned back against the cushions, ruminating. There seemed to be something going on that night; the ten of hearts was acquiring a mystifying, not to say sinister, aspect. First it had alarmed the girl in Mouquin's, and now this stranger in the curio-shop. I was confident that the latter had lied in regard to his explanations. The card had startled him, but his reasons were altogether of transparent thinness. A man never likes to confess that he is unlucky at cards; there is a certain pride in lying about the enormous stakes you have won and the wonderful draws you have made. I frowned. It was not possible for me to figure out what his interest in the card was. If he was a Westerner, his buying a pistol in a pawnshop was at once disrobed of its mystery; but the inconsistent elegance of his evening clothes doubled my suspicions. Bah! What was the use of troubling myself with this stranger's affairs? He would never cross my path again.
In reasonable time the cab drew up in front of my apartments. I dressed, donned my Capuchin's robe and took a look at myself in the pier-glass. Then I unwrapped the package and put on the mask. The whole made a capital outfit, and I was vastly pleased with myself. This was going to be such an adventure as one reads about in the ancient numbers of Blackwood's. I slipped the robe and mask into my suit-case and lighted my pipe. During great moments like this, a man gathers courage and confidence from a pipeful of tobacco. I dropped into a comfortable Morris, touched the gas-logs,