"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 were still at it. The professional gambler had won a large sum of money; the largest sum he ever possessed. Yet there was no gleam of triumph in his keen eyes. Bert might have been winning for all the emotion his face showed. They were a well matched pair, and they enjoyed playing with each other. "There," cried Pony at last, "haven't you had enough? Luck's against you. I wouldn't run my head any longer against a brick wall, if I were you." "My dear Pony, how often have I told you there is no such thing as luck. But to tell the truth I'm tired and I'm going home. The revenge is postponed. When do I meet the enemy again?" Pony Rowell shuffled the cards idly for a few moments without replying or raising his eyes. At last he said: "The next time I play you, Bert, it will be for high stakes." "Good heavens, aren't you satisfied with the stakes we played for to- night?" "No. I want to play you for a stake that will make even your hair stand on end. Will you do it?" "Certainly. When?" "That I can't tell just yet. I have a big scheme on hand. I am to see a man to-day about it. All I want to know is that you promise to play." "Pony, this is mysterious. I guess you're not afraid I will flunk out. I'm ready to meet you on any terms and for any stake." "Enough said. I'll let you know some of the particulars as soon as I find out all I want myself. Good-night." "Good-night to you, rather," said Bert, as Mellish helped him on with his overcoat. "You've won the pile: robbing a poor man of his hard- earned gains!" "Oh, the poor man does not need the money as badly as I do. Besides, I'm going to give you a chance to win it all back again and more."