He fell back on the bed, exhausted, and went on with his fitful sleep.
At 4:15 in the morning a man walked into the station house. His name was Henry Tilton. He was a reporter for the Evening Press. He waved a greeting to the desk sergeant and went over to kibitz the card game.
Both players looked up, startled. The reporter playing cards said, "Hello, Henry." He looked at his watch. "Whoosh! I didn't realize it was that late." He turned to the businessman. "Hurry up, finish the hand. Got to get my beauty sleep."
"Whaddaya mean, hurry up," said Bernie, "you're into me for fifteen bucks."
"Get it back from Hank here," the reporter said. He nodded at the newcomer, "Want this hand? You're fourteen points down. Lover boy's got sixty-eight on game, but you're a box up."
"Sure," said Tilton. He took the cards.
The morning news reporters left. The businessman dealt a new hand. Tilton waited four rounds, then knocked with ten.
Bernie slammed down his cards. "You lousy reporters are all alike! I'm going home." He got up to put on his coat. "I'll be back about ten, you still be here?"
"Sure," said Tilton, "... with the score." He folded the paper and put it in his pocket.