The next evening Silas led Harry to one of the haunts which they had of late frequented. They entered in the same cautious way as before. At that time the police were actively engaged in endeavouring to destroy the numerous gambling-houses, not improperly known as hells, in London. Harry knew very well that he had no business to be there, and nearly every day he persuaded himself that he would refuse to go again; but as the evening came round, the tempter's persuasion overcame his scruples. On this occasion a considerable number of well-dressed men were present, many of them evidently men of rank and position. If they went, why should not he? He had hitherto been wonderfully successful, and he had made up his mind not to stake more than he had won. There was an abundance of sparkling wine and other refreshments on the sideboard. The room also was brilliantly lighted with wax candles, and Harry felt himself in remarkably good spirits. Silas was already playing, and placing somewhat heavy stakes on the table. Harry approached him, and followed the example of his friend. Fortune seemed to have turned against him. He lost stake after stake. Still Silas signed to him to go on; a strange infatuation seized him. He lost still more. Suddenly he looked up, when he saw the countenance of young Gilby, who was watching him narrowly. The young man came round to him, and placed his hand on his shoulder. "`Still waters run deep,' old boy. I thought so," he whispered. "I am glad to see you are not such a muff as I took you for. I don't know what our friends in Broad Street would say to you, if they saw you here. However, mum's the word with me. Go on and prosper." Harry felt himself abashed. He could make no reply. "If one or two hundred pounds are of any use to you, you are welcome to them, young one," said Gilby, in a tone which he intended to be good-natured. "No, thank you," said Harry; "I don't intend to lose more than my purse can bear." "Oh, oh! the young one has a touch of pride about him!" Gilby whispered, loud enough, however, for Harry to hear him. Harry drew out his last five guineas. He staked them and lost. Sleech came up to him, and put a roll of gold into his hand. "You can pay me at your convenience. Don't stop now, or it would ruin all." Harry fully believed that he should recover his loss. One hundred, two hundred pounds soon went. Again Sleech was by his side, and repeated his offer. "Nonsense; I will take no refusal." Harry took the gold and lost it. He retained his countenance wonderfully. Gilby smiled. "You had better borrow of me," he whispered. "No, thank you; my friend has my purse," answered Harry, with a certain amount of prevarication. It was getting late. Harry lost still more. Sleech poured out a tumbler of wine, which Harry tossed off. Silas led him away to a desk in a recess. "Here," he said, "between friends we do not want acknowledgment, but business is business."