course, Mellish's gambling rooms were
as well known to the police as to Pony Rowell, but unless some fuss was
made by the public, Mellish knew he would be free from molestation.

Mellish was a careful man, and a visitor had to be well vouched for,
before he gained admission. There never was any trouble in Mellish's
rooms. He was often known to advise a player to quit when he knew the
young gambler could not afford to lose, and instances were cited where
he had been the banker of some man in despair. Everybody liked Mellish,
for his generosity was unbounded, and he told a good story well.

Inside the room that Pony Rowell had penetrated, a roulette table was
at its whirling work and faro was going on in another spot. At small
tables various visitors were enjoying the game of poker.

"Hello, Pony," cried Bert Ragstock, "are you going to give me my
revenge to-night?"

"I'm always willing to give anyone his revenge." answered Pony
imperturbably, lighting a fresh cigarette.

"All right then; come and sit down here."

"I'm not going to play just yet. I want to look on for a while."

"Nonsense. I've been waiting for you ever so long already. Sit down."

"You ought to know by this time, Bert, that when I say a thing I mean
it. I won't touch a card till the clock begins to strike 12. Then I'm
wid ye."

"Pshaw, Pony, you ought to be above that sort of thing. That's
superstition, Rowell. You're too cool a man to mind when you touch a
card. Come on."

"That's all right. At midnight, I said to myself, and at midnight it
shall be or not at all."

The old gamblers in the place nodded approval of this resolution. It
was all right enough for Bert Ragstock to sneer at superstition,
because he was not a real gambler. He merely came to Mellish's rooms in
the evening because the Stock Exchange did not keep open all night.
Strange to say Ragstock was a good business man as well as a cool
gambler. He bemoaned the fate that made him so rich that gambling had
not the exhilarating effect on him which it would have had if he had
been playing in desperation.

When the clock began to chime midnight Pony Rowell took up the pack and
began to shuffle.

"Now, old man," he said, "I'm going in to win. I'm after big game to-
night."

"Right you are." cried Bert, with enthusiasm. "I'll stand by you as
long as the spots stay on the cards."

In the gray morning, when most of the others had left and even Mellish
himself was yawning, they w