risk. The excitement of the game was reflected in his tall tense figure, his flaming cheeks. This was the Harrowby who had made Jephson that gambling proposition on a seventeenth floor in New York.
And Harrowby won consistently. Won, until a fatal choice of numbers with an overwhelming stake left him poor again, and he saw all his winnings swept to swell Tom Stacy's store. Quickly he wormed his way out of the crowd and sought Minot
"May I see you a moment?" he asked. "Out here." And he led the way to the gloom of the balcony.
"If I only had the cash," Harrowby whispered excitedly, "I could break Stacy to-night. And I'm going to get it. Will you give me the necklace, please."
"You forget," Minot objected, "that the necklace is supposed to have been stolen."
"No. No. That's no matter. I'll arrange that Hurry—"
"You forget, too, that you told me this morning that should this necklace be found now—"
