professional, and by midnight the younger man was another $1,000 in
Rowell's debt.

"It isn't my practice," said Rowell slowly, "to play with a man unless
he has the money in sight. I've made an exception in your case, as luck
was against you, but I think this has gone far enough. You may bring me
the $1,000 you owe any day next week. No particular hurry, you know."

The young fellow appeared to be dazed. He drew his hand across his brow
and then said mechanically, as if he had just heard his opponent's
remark:

"No hurry? All right. Next week. Certainly. I guess I'll go home now."

Forme went out, leaving Rowell idly shuffling the cards at the small
table. The moment the young man had disappeared all Rowell's indolence
vanished. He sprang up and put on his overcoat, then slipped out by the
rear exit into the alley. He had made up his mind what Forme would do.
Mentally he tracked him from the gambling rooms to the river and he
even went so far as to believe he would take certain streets on his way
thither. A gambler is nothing if not superstitious and so Rowell was
not in the least surprised when he saw the young man emerge from the
dark stairway, hesitate for a moment between the two directions open to
him, and finally choose the one that the gambler expected him to take.
The cold streets were deserted and so Rowell had more difficulty in
following his late victim unperceived than he would have had earlier in
the evening. Several times the older man thought the pursued had become
aware of the pursuit, for Forme stopped and looked around him; once
coming back and taking another street as if trying to double on the man
who was following him.