Brainard brushed him aside and feverishly sputtered:
"Don't bother me. I'm playing for the biggest stake in the world. This is my day."
He snatched a fat roll of yellow-backed bills from Brown, and tossed it across the table to the splotch of red. Presently the croupier droned:
"Twenty-four wins, and the red."
The cashier counted Brainard's stake, piled up bills of equal value and shoved the bundle across the table. With tears in his voice Brown begged him to quit as Brainard made one more winning plunge and turned to his friend with a hoarse cry:
"I'm through. Damn it, come on! Let's count the plunder. I've won my freedom."
A few moments later Brainard divided somewhat more than five thousand dollars into two rolls and stuffed them into his trousers pockets. As the two young men passed out of doors, they were startled by the uproar of the wind. The palm crests were whipping to tatters with sibilant lament, and the air was filled with their flying fragments. From the beach came the great call of a raging surf and the sting of spray driven inland. Once, during his cyclonic hours in the "Casino," Brainard had heard the rising storm cry over the roof, but its summons had been unheeded. It had vaguely reminded him of duty, but even now he thought only of his lawless wealth as he strode toward the beach while "Toodles" Brown galloped clumsily in his wake.
When they passed beyond the sheltering lee of the last hotel building, the might of the "norther" buffeted them breathless. Brainard staggered out to the pier and clutched the nearest railing lest he be blown overboard. The rain of spray was drenching his evening clothes as Brown tugged at his coat and strove to pull him toward the hotel.
"Let me cool off," shouted Brainard above the tumult. "I'm going home with you, I tell you, Toodles. I'm going to the Mediterranean with you. I'm going to Italy with you, God bless her! I'm going back where I belong, and the pineapples can go to hell. There's five thousand in my clothes."