porary small successes,
and having gained their confidence proceeds to throw them down the
harder. Disappointment, misery, embezzlement, suicide, follow it all
as effect follows cause--and still the game goes on."

"Well, anyway, I 'm glad we touched them, and we 'll take good care
that they do n't get it back. By Jove, it's nearly 4 o'clock. I 'm
afraid we ought to be going, Jack. It's a long drive in, and recollect
we have a date for dinner to-night. Come on, I 'll cash this Despot
ticket, and then we 'll make a start for home."

"Home!" exclaimed Checkers. "You're not going home? Why this is the
race I 've been waiting for. You do n't want to miss a lunch like
this. It's a puddin'; it's a tapioca. Honest, it's a regular gift;
the chance of your life to make a 'killin'."

But to all his entreaties we lent a deaf ear though he talked with a
masterful eloquence. I confess, however, to one more weakness. I gave
him a ten which he swore to return. (Murray was standing in line with
his ticket.) He said he would "play it carefully, and gradually win
himself out of the hole." I felt at the time that I was a "sucker,"
but somehow he had a persuasive way.

III

A number of weeks had come and gone ere I again laid eyes upon
Checkers, and then it chanced most unexpectedly.

I had stayed at my office late one evening, finishing up some odd jobs
which I had allowed to accumulate. The additional work and the
lateness of the hour lent a keen edge to my appetite, and I decided to
dine down town and perhaps drop into one of the theaters.

As I hastened along on my way to Kinsley's (I am not a member of the
down-town clubs) a figure stepped out of a neighboring doorway, and
brushed against me in passing. It was Checkers. I knew him at once.
But I gave no sign of recognition and hoped to escape him unobserved.
A futile hope, for he knew me as quickly, and in an instant was by my
side.

"Why, Mr. Preston," he exclaimed grabbing and shaking my passive hand.
"Say, on the dead, I 'm glad to see you; why is it you have n't been
out to the track? I 've had 'something good' nearly every day. I wish
I had seen you an hour ago. I 've been playing 'the bank,' and they
've cleaned me flat. They say that's the squarest game on earth, but
the cards do run dead wrong for me. Where you going--to eat? Well,
say, as the tramp says, 'Me stomach tinks me troat's cut.' Back me
against a supper, will you? It's a hun