The girl glanced hastily at the ten numbers out of the thirty-eight left blank, and instantly made her decision. "Thirty-five, Dick," she whispered, and as she spoke she placed five of the counters on the chosen square. Momentarily heads were turned in her direction, and then the wheel was started once again. Bradfield's croupier wasted no time. "Do them now," might have been his motto. Even as Gordon leaned forward to get a better view, the ball stopped abruptly. "Seven," called the croupier, and Gordon smiled ironically at the folly of the whole proceeding. Once more the girl placed her bet on the thirty-five, once more the ball revolved, slackened its speed as the wheel spun more slowly, and stopped--in the single zero. Gordon turned to his companion with a laugh. "How about your presentiment?" he queried. The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, we've a chance still," she answered, "and I rather think this is the time we win." Down went the last five chips on the thirty-five. "Bets are closed," cried the croupier, and the little ball spun merrily away again on its accustomed journey. Gordon's eyes were fixed eagerly upon its progress--now slower and slower spun the wheel, more and more gently the little ball moderated its pace, hesitated, paused on the lip of nineteen, hung there, balanced, and then, as if with the faintest possible remaining effort, rolled on, and dropped-- "Thirty-five," called the croupier sharply. "Red wins--," and the rest was lost in the quick buzz of excitement, for at Bradfield's hundred dollar flatfoots were rare. The croupier leaned forward across the table. Thirty-five hundred was quite a sum to lose, but he knew that it would make talk, help trade, and doubtless eventually come back. So he even smiled deferentially. "I think I'll have to send for Mr. Bradfield on this," he said. "We're not prepared for quite such heavy plays, as a general thing. Will you have bills or a check?" "A check, please," said Gordon half mechanically. "We'll be in the next room." It was not until they were again seated at their table in the window that he was able to make the whole occurrence seem a reality. The girl was laughing half hysterically, the bright color in her cheeks making her prettier than ever. Gordon gazed at her in admiration. "Well, Rose," he cried, "I'm not so smart as I thought I was. I guess the laugh's on me, or on Bradfield, I don't know which. Now for McMurtrie. I know just where I can locate him this very minute." The girl bent across the table, her eyes bright, her whole attitude expectant, alluring. "To-night?" she murmured. "But I thought to-night--" Gordon met her glance squarely, his eyes ablaze with passion. He leaned forward in turn until his hand touched hers. "In just one hour," he cried. "And an hour--can seem like a thousand years." [Illustration: He leaned forward until his hand touched hers. Page 44] CHAPTER IV THE ESSEX HANDICAP