“I won’t lose,” said the man, confidently. “Come,” he said, in a wheedling tone, “let me make some money for you.”
“Thank you, but I would rather not. I don’t want to make money in any such way.”
“You’re a fool!” said the man, roughly, and with an air of disgust he left the spot, much to Hector’s relief.
Still Hector lingered, expecting he hardly knew what, but it chanced that fortune favored him. He was just about to turn away, when a youth, two or three years older than himself in appearance, came out of the gambling house. He was pale, and looked as if he had kept late hours. He had the appearance, also, of one who indulges in drink.
When Hector’s glance fell upon the face of the youth, he started in great excitement.
“Surely,” he thought, “that must be Gregory Newman!”
CHAPTER XXXV. THE PRODIGAL.
As the best way of getting into communication with the youth whom he suspected to be the object of his search, Hector asked him the name of the street.
On receiving an answer, he said, in an explanatory way: