her dance off to one of
the roulette tables, accompanied by the middle-aged fop who had been her
companion yesterday.

Henshaw and his assistant now appeared and began grouping the players
at the various tables. Merton Gill remained leaning wearily against his
massive pillar, trying to appear blase under the chatter of the Spanish
girl. The groups were arranged to the liking of Henshaw, though only
after many trials. The roulette ball was twirled and the lively rattle
of chips could be heard. Scanning his scene, he noted Merton and his
companion.

"Oh, there you are, you two. Sister, you go and stand back of that crowd
around the faro table. Keep craning to look over their shoulders, and
give us your side view. I want to use this man alone. Here." He led
Merton to a round table on which were a deck of cards and some neatly
stacked chips. "Sit here, facing the camera. Keep one hand on the cards,
sort of toying with 'em, see what I mean?"

He scattered the piled chips loosely about the table, and called to a
black waiter: "Here, George, put one of those wine glasses on his left."

The wine glass was placed. "Now kind of slump down in your chair, like
you saw the hollowness of it all--see what I mean?"

Merton Gill thought he saw. He exhaled smoke, toyed contemptuously with
the cards at his right hand and, with a gesture of repulsion, pushed the
wine glass farther away. He saw the hollowness of it all. The spirit of
wine sang in his glass but to deaf ears. Chance could no longer entice
him. It might again have been suspected that cigarettes were ceasing to
allure.

"Good work! Keep it up," said Henshaw and went back to his cameras.

The lights jarred on; desperate gaming was filmed. "More life at
the roulette tables," megaphoned Henshaw. "Crowd closer around that
left-hand faro table. You're playing for big stakes." The gaming became
more feverish. The mad light of pleasure was in every eye, yet one felt
that the blight of Broadway was real.

The camera was wheeled forward and Merton Gill joyously quit smoking
while Henshaw secured flashes of various groups, chiefly of losers who
were seeing the hollowness of it all. He did not, however, disdain a bit
of comedy.

"Miss Montague."

"Yes, Mr. Henshaw." The Montague girl paused in the act of sprinkling
chips over a roulette lay-out.

"Your escort has lost all his chips and you've lost all he bought for
you--"

The girl and her escort passed to other players th