“Number one side!”
A kind of explosive sob burst from the player’s lips. He followed his money with hungry eyes as it was gathered up, and then his glance wandered about the circle of white and brown faces with a pitiful appeal. His eye met Elliott’s; it was full of a hurt, bewildered disappointment. The old man put out his hand to stake his last pieces.
Elliott grasped his arm, on a sudden impulse.
“Don’t play any more,” he said, in a low tone. “You’ve got no luck to-night.”
The player looked blankly at him, and tried to pull away his arm.
“Stop it, I say,” reiterated Elliott. “You’d better come away with me. You don’t know anything about this game.”
“Who are you? I don’t know you. You’re trying to rob me, but I’ll get my money back in spite of you.”
“You old fool, I’m the best friend you’ve got in this house. You come right along with me,” said Elliott, energetically, trying to drag the gambler away from the table.
He resisted with a sort of limp determination, but Elliott hauled him through the circle of players that immediately closed up behind them. No one troubled to look around; the game went on, and the dealer announced, “Number four side!”
“Now put your money in your pocket. We’ll go out,” Elliott ordered, wondering at himself for taking so much trouble. For aught he knew, the man might have been able to afford a loss of thousands. The unlucky player fumbled tremulously with his sovereigns, and Elliott was finally obliged to tuck them away for him.