Kendric, fully enjoying the play of expression on Ortega's face.

"The luck," grumbled Ortega, "was that I did not bet you.  If I had bet it would have been a six, no less."

"Tony Muñoz," called Kendric, turning.  "Will it be you?"

"No!" shouted Ortega, already angered in his grasping soul, ready to spew forth his wrath in any direction, always more than ready to rail at his son-in-law.  "Muñoz has no business in my house.  Who is boss here?  It is me!"

Kendric seeing that Tony Muñoz was contenting himself with sneering and certainly would not play, began gathering up the money on the table. It was then that for the first time he heard the voice of Ruiz Rios's companion.

"I will play Señor Kendric."

The voice ran through the quiet of the room musically.  The utterance was low, gentle, the accent was the soft, tender accent of Old Spain with some subtle flavor of other alien races.  No man in the room had ever heard such sweet, soothing music as was made by her slow words. After the sound died away a hush remained and through men's memories the cadences repeated themselves like lingering echoes.  Kendric himself stared at her wonderingly, not knowing why her hidden look stirred him so, not knowing why there should be a spell worked by five quiet words.  Nor did he find the spell entirely pleasant; as her look had done, so now her speech vaguely disturbed him.  His emotion, though not outright irritation, was akin to it.  He was opening his lips to say curtly, "I do not play dice with women, señora," when Ortega's sudden outburst forestalled him.

Kendric had barely had the time to register the faint impression of the odd sensation which this companion of Ruiz Rios awoke in him, when he was set to puzzle over Ortega's explosion.  Why should the gaming-house keeper raise so violent an objection to any sort of a game played in his place?  Perhaps Ortega himself could not have explained clearly since it is doubtful if he felt clearly; it is likely that a childishly blind anger had spurted up venomously in his heart when Kendric had exposed the deuce and men had laughed and Ortega felt as though he had lost five thousand dollars.  In such a case a man's wrath explodes readily, combustion breaking forth spontaneously like an oily rag in the sun.  At any rate, his fat face grown hectic, he lifted hand and voice, shouting:

"I will have no women gambling here.  This is my place, 

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