Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Trust; Or, Never Say Die онлайн

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When the gaming-room was entered Frank’s keen eyes took in the general appearance of the place, and a glance showed him that it was furnished for gambling alone. There were the roulette-tables, double-banked, with the wheel in the center. Against the walls were the tables for faro. Chairs for the players, the dealers, and the croupiers were the only furnishings on the floor.

A collection of quiet, well-dressed men were playing at the various tables. They were polite and gentle in their movements, quiet of speech and apparently engaged in an occupation to which they were well accustomed and familiar.

It was the air of Canfield’s place. Every one entering there was supposed to act like a gentleman and to betray little emotion, no matter what his losings or his winnings might be.

And the play was high. Canfield was too impatient to bother with men who bet five or ten dollars. He cared nothing for small fry, but his lines were out constantly for big fish. The white checks cost a dollar each in that room.