A Battle for Right; Or, A Clash of Wits

Five men were playing cards in a room in the Old Pike Inn. It was a roadhouse, on a well-traveled highway—a great favorite with automobiles—in one of the picturesque valleys that alternate with towering heights within easy motoring distance of New York City. The Old Pike Inn had its spacious verandas, its big restaurant, its smaller dining rooms for private parties, and its great reception hall, with polished floor, in which dances, formal and informal, were in progress every evening during most of the year. It was a place to which wealthy New Yorkers often brought their wives and daughters for luncheon or dinner, and its «tone» was regarded as above criticism. Everything suggested refinement, the lavish expenditure of money for the comfort and entertainment of guests, and an artistic atmosphere that was both subtle and unmistakable. Captain Brown, who managed the Old Pike Inn, knew his business. Only a privileged number of his patrons were aware that they could play a quiet game of «draw» in secluded rooms, with the assurance that there could be no interference, and where their occupation would never be suspected by anybody not in the secret. The five men playing were all young, and every one showed in the flushed countenance that something more than the excitement of the game had heated his blood and rendered his speech at times somewhat thick.