“No, you’re not. You’re going to stop right now,” responded Henninger. “Pull yourself together, man; you’re drunk. Tell him you want to cash in.”
The two men glared at each other for a moment, the one flushed, the other deadly pale, and Hawke slowly came to himself.
“I guess you’re right, old man,” with a nervous giggle. “How much have I won? Charley, I reckon I’ll cash in.”
On this last and greatest coup a thousand dollars had been won on the colour, and a trifle over ten thousand on the number, and besides this, Hawke had several hundred dollars’ worth of checks from his previous winnings. Nolan himself counted the checks, stacking them back in place. The total amount was eleven thousand, seven hundred and thirty-eight dollars.
Nolan took the loss like a veteran book-maker. “I’ll have to send out to the bank, gentlemen,” he said. “While you’re waiting, give the boy your orders.”
“No, this is on us,” said Henninger. “Everybody take something on our luck. Nothing but Pommery’ll moisten it.”
Nolan submitted gracefully. “I won’t deny that you do owe me a drink. I’ve been in this business, here and on the turf, about all my life, but I never did see anything like that run. I was glad when Mr. Hawke cashed in—and that’s no lie.”
Hawke was growing as pale as he had been red, and the champagne glass trembled in his fingers. The two who had not played, suffering no reaction, were scarcely able to subdue their spirits to a sportsmanlike decorum. The money came, and Nolan counted it out in a thick green package—the weapon that was to win the drowned million as the twenty-seven dollars had won this. And yet, as Elliott looked at the hundred-dollar bills he felt a sudden shock of belated terror. It was only then that he realized what loss would have meant,—and it had been such a near thing!
CHAPTER VI. THE MYSTERY OF THE MATE
Elliott awoke next morning with an uneasy head and a feverish taste in his mouth, and looked vaguely around the unfamiliar hotel chamber without being able to recall how he had come there. It was only yesterday that he had been riding surreptitiously in box cars. But as his brain cleared he remembered the splendid and joyous dinner that had closed the day before, a misty glitter of glass and silver and delicious wines and cigars. That recalled his new friends and his message to them, and then the whole transformation of his fortunes flashed back upon him—the miraculous winning at roulette, the treasure trail; and, wide awake instantly, he jumped out of bed in a flush of excitement.