the inquest was held. Very few facts were
developed beyond those already learned by Houston, excepting the
extent of Morgan's losses. These included not only everything which he
had possessed, even to his watch and a few pieces of jewelry, but in
addition, a large sum of money advanced him by Brocky Joe. Those with
whom he was playing testified that he had quit shortly before
midnight, and left the hall rather hastily. At the time, they thought
he had gone to borrow more money, and perhaps try his luck at some
other place, but nothing more was seen of him, and they soon forgot
the occurrence.

When all was over and the crowd was slowly dispersing, Houston saw
several members of the gambling fraternity approaching him, headed by
the two designated by Bull-dog as Slicky Sam and Brocky Joe. The
latter, a stout, red-faced individual, with flaming necktie and
blazing diamonds, was evidently speaker for the entire party.

"We would like," he began, in a high-pitched, falsetto voice, "to
express our regrets for what has occurred, and I wish to state on
behalf of my associates here, and also personally, that there was no
ill feeling toward your friend, and I am perfectly willing to overlook
the small amount of indebtedness; and if there is anything we can do,
in the way of sharing the burial expenses, or anything of the kind, we
shall be glad to do so."

"Your assistance is not needed," replied Houston, in a cold, cutting
tone, "you have already done your work; you and your ilk have brought
him where he is, and that is enough," and he turned abruptly from
them.

As he re-entered the room, he met Mollie, who cast an appealing glance
at him. She could not have been over twenty years of age, but she
looked worn and haggard. Her hair was disheveled, large, dark rings
encircled her heavy, lusterless eyes, now swollen with weeping, and
there was a look of helpless and hopeless despair in her glance that
aroused Houston's pity. It was a new experience for him to be brought
into contact with these wrecked and ruined lives, and sorrow for the
one life which had gone out so suddenly and needlessly, made him
pitiful toward all.

A look of pity, a word of pure, disinterested kindness, was something
new in the life of the poor creature before him, and she began sobbing
afresh:

"He's gone," she moaned, "and I don't want to live no longer."

"Did you care so much for him?" asked Houston, wonderingly.

"Yes," she sobbed, "I never