Brainard welcomed the diversion, for his thoughts were all upheaved. When they entered the "Casino," the busy green tables, the rattle of ivory chips, and the tingling excitement pervading the eager throng of men and women awoke in the exile a gambling passion that had long lain dormant. Without conscious act he found himself fingering his little roll of bills while he watched "Toodles" Brown buy a staggering pile of five-dollar chips. Fighting with his desire, Brainard idly chose numbers here and there, and trembled when he saw his empty choices winning time after time.
The whirr of the ball as it sped round the edge of its gleaming disk, lost headway, hesitated for a heart-breaking instant and fell into its destined compartment, was fascinating beyond words. Presently a florid dowager withdrew with a gesture of peevish disappointment, leaving vacant a seat near the middle of her table. "Toodles" Brown was profoundly absorbed in his own gloomy run of luck, and paid no heed to Brainard's modest investment of twenty-five counters worth a dollar each.
The life-saver had little expectation of winning. This was a distraction, an excitement, a part of his rare "day off," and he hung breathless on the surging uncertainty of every play. He noticed that "Toodles" Brown had forsaken his "pet numbers down the middle row," and with a reckless impulse he placed five dollars on each of the trio. The croupier gathered in the stake as callously as if a large part of a surfman's monthly wage had not been lost in this heady plunge.
"I think a zero is about due, and it stands for my prospects all right," thought Brainard as he slid five chips into the space around the "single 0."
The purring ball was uncommonly coy, and Brainard felt his heart thumping while it wavered undecided. When it nestled into its chosen nook, the croupier sung out:
"The single 0 has it."
He pushed a hundred and eighty dollars in chips toward Brainard. The young man flushed through his tan. A wild hope had flared in his heart. He resumed his play with tautened nerves and a softened light in his frank eyes. Belated luck must fall along the "middle row" he thought, and he covered Brown's "pet numbers" with chips, in the squares, on the dividing lines and in the corners. "Seventeen" won, and he gathered in his spoils without trying to count them. Then he threw his chips at random, on numbers and on colors, and the blind goddess was strangely kind almost with every turn of the wheel.
"Toodles" Brown ceased playing and looked at his chum wide-eyed. Brainard was exchanging some stacks of chips for bills, and others for chips of higher values, until he was staking the limit allowed on a number.
"For Heaven's sake call it off!" whispered Brown. "It can't last any longer. Pull out while you're ahead, and let me count it for you. You've nearly two thousand here."