turbed banker of the other players around the table. There was no need to ask. A woman's fate seemed to them to be in the balance, though they did not precisely understand how, and they were content to watch the drama play itself to a close.
He hooked a long finger around the polished rod and spun it. Round and round it flashed, slowed smoothly down, and even before it came completely to rest Carmelita knew she was lost.
"The even combination," he announced and swept the disks toward him. Her entire fortune had been staked upon the odd.
Suddenly something seemed to give way within her. Fog was gathering in her head and she felt her knees sag. A stocky, gray-haired men next to her caught her under the shoulders in time to prevent her falling. He led her quickly toward a window and, despite the banker's swift caution not to open it, for safety's sake, with a mention of prowling motorcycle policemen, he raised the sash to admit the cool night air.
Carmelita recovered almost instantly. "I'm quite—all right—thank you," and she tried to smile. "If you will—just call a taxi for me."
Her benefactor did so and procured a chair for her and stood beside her, mercifully not
