RETROSPECTION
Constable Hope had been attracted by John Berwick, and meant to see more of him. So that when he met him one day with his arm in a sling he showed himself friendly.
Smoothbore's trooper was a youth of ideas—a good type of the fine force. Though he was still but twenty-four years of age his life had so often been in danger that he had courage and character far beyond his years. As the incident which broke down the conspiracy had proved, he was an adventurer at heart, with more than usual brilliance and spirit.
He would ride into a band of yelling drunken savages and get his man without showing a gun, and time and again had solved difficulties through sheer daring, cleverness, and shrewd knowledge of men. He played the game for love of the game. Money, by way of graft, he did not deem any reward.
John Berwick had interested him. He felt that they held interests in common, so when they met he addressed him. He was not in uniform, and Berwick had no idea he belonged to the police.
He followed John into one of the gambling-halls, whither John had gone in search of any of his old-time colleagues who might not have joined the stampede.
As, standing beside each other, they watched the play at a Black Jack table, a burly Swede lounged up, and from his hip pocket drew out a bag of dust, which he laid on the table in line with the wagers of the other players. The sack held about three thousand dollars-worth of gold.
The dealer dealt each man a card, slipping it under his wager, and then dealt another round. The different players, starting with the one on the dealer's left, after looking at what they had drawn, either tapped their cards if they wished another card or placed their hand beneath their wager if they were content to "stand."
When it came to the Scandinavian's turn he stood stupidly looking at his gold.
"Well—what do you intend to do?" asked the dealer.