o have me turned out?"

"Nothing of the sort," said Mellish, soothingly, putting his hand in a
fatherly manner on the young fellow's shoulder. "Don't mistake my
meaning. The fact that you are here shows that you have a right to be
here. We'll say no more about that. But you take my advice and quit the
business here and now. I was a gambler before you were born, although I
don't gamble any more. Take the advice of a man who knows. It doesn't
pay."

"It seems to have paid you reasonably well."

"Oh, I don't complain. It has its ups and downs like all businesses.
Still, it doesn't pay me nearly as well as perhaps you think, and you
can take my word that in the long run it won't pay you at all. How much
money have you got?"

"Enough to pay if I lose," said the boy impudently; then seeing the
look of pain that passed over Mellish's face, he added more civilly:

"I have three or four hundred dollars."

"Well, take my advice and go home. You'll be just that much better off
in the morning."

"What! Don't you play a square game here?"

"Of course we play a square game here," answered Mellish with
indignation. "Do you think I am a card-sharper?"

"You seem so cock-sure I'll lose my money that I was just wondering.
Now, I can afford to lose all the money I've got and not feel it. Are
you going to allow me to play, or are you going to chuck me out?"

"Oh, you can play if you want to. But don't come whining to me when you
lose. I've warned you."

"I'm not a whiner," said the young fellow; "I take my medicine like a
man."

"Right you are," said Mellish with a sigh. He realized that this
fellow, young as he looked, was probably deeper in vice than his
appearance indicated and he knew the uselessness of counsel in such a
case. They went into the main room together and the boy, abandoning
roulette, began to play at one of the card tables for ever-increasing
stakes. Mellish kept an eye on him for a time. The boy was having the
luck of most beginners. He played a reckless game and won hand over
fist. As one man had enough and rose from the table another eagerly
took his place, but there was no break in the boy's winnings.

Pony Rowell was always late in arriving at the gambling rooms. On this
occasion he entered, irreproachably dressed, and with the quiet,
gentlemanly demeanor habitual with him. The professional gambler was
never known to lose his temper. When displeased he became quieter, if
possible, than before. The on