Carefully concealing it, as he had done, yet holding it as close to the table as I dared I tried to follow two things at once without betraying myself.As near as I could make out, something happened at every play.I would not go so far as to assert that whenever the larger stakes were on a certain number the needle pointed to the opposite side of the wheel, for it was impossible to be at all accurate about it.Once I noticed the needle did not move at all, and he won.But an the next play he staked what Iknew must be the remainder of his winnings on what seemed a very good chance.Even before the wheel was revolved and the ball set rolling, the needle swung about, and when the platinum ball came to rest Kennedy rose from the table, a loser.
"By George though," exclaimed DeLong, grasping his hand."I take it all back.You are a good loser, sir.I wish I could take it as well as you do.But then, I'm in too deeply.There are too many 'markers' with the house up against me."Senator Danfield had just come in to see how things were going.
He was a sleek, fat man, and it was amazing to see with what deference his victims treated him.He affected not to have heard what DeLong said, but I could imagine what he was thinking, for Ihad heard that he had scant sympathy with anyone after he "went broke"--another evidence of the camaraderie and good-fellowship that surrounded the game.
Kennedy's neat remark surprised me."Oh, your luck will change, D.L.,"--everyone referred to him as "D.L.," for gambling-houses have an aversion for real names and greatly prefer initials--"your luck will change presently.Keep right on with your system.It's the best you can do to-night, short of quitting.""I'll never quit," replied the young man under his breath.
Meanwhile Kennedy and I paused on the way, out to compare notes.
My report of the behaviour of the compass only confirmed him in his opinion.
As we turned to the stairs we took in a full view of the room.Afaro-layout was purchasing Senator Danfield a new touring-car every hour at the expense of the players.Another group was gathered about the hazard board, deriving evident excitement, though I am sure none could have given an intelligent account of the chances they were taking.Two roulette-tables were now going full blast, the larger crowd still about DeLong's.Snatches of conversation came to us now and then, and I caught one sentence, "De Long's in for over a hundred thousand now on the week's play, I understand; poor boy--that about cleans him up.""The tragedy of it, Craig," I whispered, but he did not hear.
With his hat tilted at a rakish angle and his opera-coat over his arm he sauntered over for a last look.
"Any luck yet?" he asked carelessly.
"The devil--no," returned the boy.
"Do you know what my advice to you is, the advice of a man who has seen high play everywhere from Monte Carlo to Shanghai?""What?"
"Play until your luck changes if it takes until to-morrow."A supercilious smile crossed Senator Danfield's fat face.
"I intend to," and the haggard young face turned again to the table and forgot us.
"For Heaven's sake, Kennedy," I gasped as we went down the stairway, "what do you mean by giving him such advice--you?""Not so loud, Walter.He'd have done it anyhow, I suppose, but Iwant him to keep at it.This night means life or death to Percival DeLong and his mother, too.Come on, let's get out of this."We passed the formidable steel door and gained the street, jostled by the late-comers who had left the after-theatre restaurants for a few moments of play at the famous club that so long had defied the police.
Almost gaily Kennedy swung along toward Broadway.At the corner he hesitated, glanced up and down, caught sight of the furniture-van in the middle of the next block.The driver was tugging at the harness of the horses, apparently fixing it.We walked along and stopped beside it.
"Drive around in front of the Vesper Club slowly," said Kennedy as the driver at last looked up.
The van lumbered ahead, and we followed it casually.Around the corner it turned.We turned also.My heart was going like a sledgehammer as the critical moment approached.My head was in a whirl.What would that gay throng back of those darkened windows down the street think if they knew what was being prepared for them?
On, like the Trojan horse, the van lumbered.A man went into the Vesper Club, and I saw the negro at the door eye the oncoming van suspiciously.The door banged shut.
The next thing I knew, Kennedy had ripped off his disguise, had flung himself up behind the van, and had swung the doors open.Adozen men with ages and sledge-hammers swarmed out and up the steps of the club.
"Call the reserves, O'Connor," cried Kennedy."Watch the roof and the back yard."The driver of the van hastened to send in the call.
The sharp raps of the hammers and the axes sounded on the thick brass-bound oak of the outside door in quick succession.There was a scurry of feet inside, and we could hear a grating noise and a terrific jar as the inner, steel door shut.
"A raid! A raid on the Vesper Club!" shouted a belated passer-by.
The crowd swarmed around from Broadway, as if it were noon instead of midnight.
Banging and ripping and tearing, the outer door was slowly forced.As it crashed in, the quick gongs of several police patrols sounded.The reserves had been called out at the proper moment, too late for them to "tip off" the club that there was going to be a raid, as frequently, occurs.
Disregarding the melee behind me, I leaped through the wreckage with the other raiders.The steel door barred all further progress with its cold blue impassibility.How were we to surmount this last and most formidable barrier?
I turned in time to see Kennedy and O'Connor hurrying up the steps with a huge tank studded with bolts like a boiler, while two other men carried a second tank.
"There," ordered Craig, "set the oxygen there," as he placed his own tank on the opposite side:
