"He's at the top of the wheel, some of us think."
"What has led to this opinion?"
"He's beginning to neglect his house, for one thing."
"A bad sign."
"And there is another sign. Heretofore, he has always been on hand, with the cash, when desirable property went off, under forced sale, at a bargain. In the last three or four months, several great sacrifices have been made, but Simon Slade showed no inclination to buy. Put this fact against another,—week before last, he sold a house and lot in the town for five hundred dollars less than he paid for them, a year ago—and for just that sum less than their true value."
"How came that?" I inquired.
"Ah! there's the question! He wanted money; though for what purpose he has not intimated to any one, as far as I can learn."
"What do you think of it?"
"Just this. He and Green have been hunting together in times past; but the professed gambler's instincts are too strong to let him spare even his friend in evil. They have commenced playing one against the other."
"Ah! you think so?"