Once in the street, Ferguson and Tom followed the unfortunate young man into an obscure street, keeping up with difficulty, for his pace was rapid and excited. It proved to be a fortunate thing, for when he supposed himself free from observation the young man drew a pistol, and, with an incoherent exclamation, placed it in contact with his temple.
Tom sprang forward, and so did the Scotchman; but the boy was the quicker and more agile, and dashed the pistol aside just in time to prevent a suicide.
"Why did you do that?" asked the baffled would-be-suicide, gloomily, turning his gaze upon Tom.
"I was afraid you were going to kill yourself."
"So I was."
"What could induce you to take such a rash step?" asked Ferguson.
"I have been a reckless fool. I have lost all my money at the accursed gambling-table, and my life is not worth retaining."
"It appears to me," said the Scotchman, quietly, "that you set too high a value upon money. You have certainly been very foolish to risk it at the gaming-table, and the loss will no doubt inconvenience you; but was your money all you had to live for?"
The young man regarded Ferguson with some surprise; but his excitement was evidently abated. The quiet tone of the speaker had a favorable effect upon him.
"I didn't think of it in that light," he admitted.