"One dollar each," he was informed.

"Indeed?" he replied, politely smothering a slight yawn.

But he conceived a new respect for those infatuated men who so
recklessly peppered the lay-out with chips--singly and in little piles
of five and ten--worth one-hundred cents each!

However, to save his face, he'd have to go through his twenty. But
after that--exit!

He made this promise to himself.

Prying a single chip apart from its fellows, he tossed it heedlessly
upon the numbered squares. It landed upon its rim, rolled toward the
wheel, and fainted gracefully upon the green compartment numbered 00.

The croupier cocked an eyebrow at him, as if questioning his
intention, at the instant the ivory ball began to sing its song of a
single note. Abruptly it was chattering; in another instant it was
still.

"Double O!" announced a voice.

A player next P. Sybarite swore soulfully.

Thirty-five white chips were stacked alongside the winning stake. With
unbecoming haste P. Sybarite removed them.

"Well," he sighed privately, "there's one thing certain: this won't