ere 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."

When Ragstock had left, Pony still sat by the table absent-mindedly
shuffling the cards.

"If I were you," said Mellish, laying his hand on his shoulder, "I
would put that pile in the bank and quit."

"The faro bank?" asked Pony, looking up with a smile.

"No, I'd quit the business altogether if I were you. I'm going to
myself."

"Oh, we all know that. You've been going to quit for the last twenty
years. Well, I'm going to quit, too, but not just yet. That's what they
all say, of course, but I mean it."

In the early and crisp winter air Pony Rowell walked to the
Metropolitan Hotel and to bed. At 3 that afternoon the man he had an
appointment with, called to see him.

"You wanted to see me about an Insurance policy," the visitor began. An
agent is always