that he would do what he did. He placed two hundred dollars on number five. And lost.
"Two more bets, friend," said the dealer.
"Just one, out of this little bunch of change," returned Steele equably. And having placed his last bet of six hundred dollars, he sought his pipe. If that six hundred should be swept from number five into the dealer's pile, he was asking himself soberly: "What will I do next? Quit or buy another stack?"
But the ball had stopped and he turned a little to smile into Joe Embry's bright eyes.
"Number five wins," droned the dealer. "Twenty-one thousand, friend; five hundred sixty to your friend."
Black anger was in Joe Embry's eyes; a surge of joy in Steele's heart. Twenty-one thousand dollars he had won on the last play … against an investment of twelve thousand … he had regained his losses and made nine thousand dollars over all. …
"Most likely he'll quit now," came a cool, contemptuous voice, the voice of Embry, which, cold as it was, was vibrant with passion.
"Quit?" snapped Steele, swinging about on him. "Quit, Joe Embry? No, damn you, I won't quit. I'm out after you tonight and what's more I am going to get you."
The ball rolled and Steele placed his bet. He had estimated swiftly that there remained in the bank, counting his own check, approximately thirty-six thousand dollars. And so, with that in mind, he laid his chips.
