“Yes.”
“Then,” and Dick Ralston bent over and whispered something in the bookkeeper’s ear.
Mullins started, and looked agitated.
“What would you have me do?” he inquired.
“Borrow a little money from the office,” answered Dick, coolly.
“But, good heavens, man, it would ruin me. Must you have me risk prison?”
“Don’t be alarmed! I only want you to borrow two or three hundred dollars. You can return it before Fairchild gets back.”
“How am I to return it?”
“You can win it back in one evening at the gaming table.”
“Or lose more.”