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

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The mural decorations of the room prevailed in Pompeiian red, and all about were panelings and other furnishings of a wood corresponding to unstained mahogany.

In this room hung an excellent example of the painter’s art, for Canfield was a connoisseur in fine paintings and rare prints, about which he would gladly talk by the hour. The handsome painting in the gambling-room he called a “Simmons.”

When they reached the gambling-room Herrick motioned toward a rear apartment, saying:

“Let’s have something to eat before we begin playing, gentlemen. I am hungry.”

“And I’ve got a terrible thirst on me,” murmured Madison, who had been strangely quiet and subdued since the appearance of the desperate and despairing youth in the reception-room. Frank saw Madison’s face was pale, and there was a look of dread in his eyes. All his rollicking manner had departed from him.

“He’s in trouble,” thought Merry; “and the sight of the other fellow has given him a start. I don’t think he stands in with Herrick.”