“My dear,” replied Miss Means severely—her Puritan vein strongly uppermost—“that young man won't do. Not at all. I saw him myself, one night at the Astor House, going into one of those private dining-rooms with a woman who—well, her character, or lack of it, was unmistakable!... Right there in the hotel.... under his father's eyes. That's what too much money will do to a young man, if you ask me!”      

       “Oh....!” breathed Miss Andrews, looking out with startled eyes at the gulls.     

       It was mid-afternoon when Captain Benjamin remarked to his first mate:       “Tex Connor's got down to work, Mr. Duane. Better try to stop it, if you don't mind. They're in young Kane's cabin—sixteen.”      

       Number sixteen was the last cabin aft in the port side, next the canvas screen that separated upper class white from upper class yellow. The wooden shutters had been drawn over the windows and the light turned on within. Cigarette smoke drifted thickly out.     

       They were slow to open. Doane heard the not unfamiliar voice of the Manila Kid advising against it. He had to knock repeatedly. They were crowded       together in the narrow space between berth and couch, a board across their knees—Connor twisting his head to fix his one eye on the intruder, the Kid, in his check suit, a German of the customs and Rocky Kane. There were cards, chips and a heap of money in American and English notes and gold.     

       “What is it?” cried Kane. “What do you want?”      

       “You'd better stop this,” said the mate quietly.     

       “Oh, come, we're just having a friendly game! What right have you to break into a private room, anyway?”      

       The mate, stooping within the doorway, took the boy in with thoughtful eyes, but did not reply directly.     

       Connor, with another look upward, picked up the cards, and with the uncanny mental quickness of a practised croupier redistributed the heap of money to its original owners, and squeezed out without a word, the mate moving aside for him. The German left sulkily. The Kid snapped his fingers in disgust, and followed.     

       Doane was moving away when the Kid caught his elbow. 

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