“All right. That will do as a starter. Is it an appointment then?”
“Yes, if you like. What time?”
“I generally get here pretty late, but I can make an exception in your case. What do you say to 10 o’clock?”
“That will suit me.”
“Very well, then. Don’t fool away any of your money or nerve until I come. You will need all you have of both.”
The professional gambler and the amateur began their series of games a few minutes after ten in a little private room. The young man became more and more excited as the play went on. As for Pony, he was cool under any circumstances. Before an hour had passed the $1,000 was transferred from the possession of Forme into the pockets of the professional, and by midnight the younger man was another $1,000 in Rowell’s debt.
“It isn’t my practice,” said Rowell slowly, “to play with a man unless he has the money in sight. I’ve made an exception in your case, as luck was against you, but I think this has gone far enough. You may bring me the $1,000 you owe any day next week. No particular hurry, you know.”
The young fellow appeared to be dazed. He drew his hand across his brow and then said mechanically, as if he had just heard his opponent’s remark:
“No hurry? All right. Next week. Certainly. I guess I’ll go home now.”