He opened a small safe in the corner. He paused after a brief inspection, then closed the safe and turned back to Cranston.
“I am wiped out,” declared Big Tom, in a morose voice. “Wiped out, Mr. Cranston. I remember now that I used up all the paper money to pay other winners. I am sorry — I will not be able to change your gold.”
CRANSTON stretched forth his hand to pick up his money. Big Tom reached forward to restrain him. The gambler’s face had taken on a pathetic expression. Big Tom could feign unhappiness as well as joviality.
“I have been very unfortunate tonight,” said the gambler, in a wheedling voice. “Luck has been against me, Mr. Cranston. This money” — he indicated the gold — “would be a salvation for me. Would you be willing to accept a credit — of seventy thousand — until the end of the week?”
“Sorry,” remarked Cranston. “I am leaving for New York to-morrow.”
Big Tom’s head sank as he watched his visitor calmly pocket the gold coins. Then the gambler listlessly opened a desk drawer and drew forth a printed pad.
“I can pay you well,” he said pleadingly. “Twenty per cent interest, Mr. Cranston. If you could let me have — say a hundred thousand — I will give you my I O U for one hundred and twenty thousand.”
A faint smile appeared upon Cranston’s lips.
“When I came here tonight,” he said, “I brought fifteen thousand dollars. My winnings were ten times that amount. Now you offer me a trifling twenty thousand for a loan of one hundred thousand. Thank you, Mr. Bagshawe. I prefer to make my investments elsewhere. In other gambling houses, for example.”
Dejection registered itself on Big Tom’s face. He dropped the pad back in the drawer, pushed it out of sight, and slowly began to raise his hand. A sharp word from Lamont Cranston caused the gambler to become instantly motionless. Only his eyes traveled toward the speaker.