"
"The tragedy of it, Craig," I whispered, but he did not hear.
With his hat tilted at a rakish angle and his opera-coat over his arm
he sauntered over for a last look.
"Any luck yet?" he asked carelessly.
"The devil--no," returned the boy.
"Do you know what my advice to you is, the advice of a man who has
seen high play everywhere from Monte Carlo to Shanghai?"
"What?"
"Play until your luck changes if it takes until to-morrow."
A supercilious smile crossed Senator Danfield's fat face.
"I intend to," and the haggard young face turned again to the table
and forgot us.
"For Heaven's sake, Kennedy," I gasped as we went down the stairway,
"what do you mean by giving him such advice--you?"
"Not so loud, Walter. He'd have done it anyhow, I suppose, but I want
him to keep at it. This night means life or death to Percival DeLong
and his mother, too. Come on, let's get out of this."
We passed the formidable steel door and gained the street, jostled by
the late-comers who had left the after-theatre restaurants for a few
moments of play at the famous club that so long had defied the police.
Almost gaily Kennedy swung along toward Broadway. At the corner he
hesitated, glanced up and down, caught sight of the furniture-van in
the middle of the next block. The driver was tugging at the harness of
the horses, apparently fixing it. We walked along and stopped beside
it.
"Drive around in front of the Vesper Club slowly," said Kennedy as the
driver at last looked up.
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