“How do you know, with the books lost?  You started in with an equal amount of money.  When that was gone Collaton announced himself broke—­and let you foot the bills.  If he only raked off half of what he spent he got back his own and a tidy fortune besides.  Your only chance is to have that enormous land deal turn out a winner.”

“It’s worse than Lady S. Tore up my ticket long ago.”

“Quite a plunge on a long shot, with a welsher like Collator! making the book,” commented Loring.  “He stripped you clean.”

“I have my appetite,” insisted Gamble with a grin.  His cheeks were ruddy and his skin as flawless as a babe’s, and his eyes—­ exceptionally large—­were as clear as they were direct.

“An appetite like yours only makes it worse to be broke,” laughed Loring.

“There’s a plenty of money in New York if I want any,” responded Gamble.  “I don’t need money, anyhow, Ashley.  I have my mother fixed--and there’s nobody else.  Besides, I’m not broke.  I have a hundred.  Do you know a good horse?”

“Nautchautauk,” advised Loring, and they both turned in the direction of the betting shed.  “The price will probably be short; but I look on it as an investment.”

“You can’t invest a hundred dollars,” argued Gamble.

“You don’t mean to say that a hundred’s all you have in the world!” returned Loring.  “I thought you’d saved a good deal more than that out of the wreck.”

“I did; but my brother was broke,” replied Gamble carelessly, and stopped in front of a blackboard.  The price on Nautchautauk was one and a half to two.  “I don’t want a bet,” he remarked, shaking his head at the board; “I need an accident.  I wonder if that goat Angora has horns and a beard?”

“People try fifty-to-one shots just before they cut their throats,” warned Loring.

“Hide my safety-razor then.  Angora carries my hundred.  I’ll feed a sawbuck apiece to ten books.”

Loring lost sight of him for a few moments, but found him outside, by and by, in conversation with “Colonel” Bouncer, a heavily-jowled man with grizzled hair and very friendly eyes which, however, could look quite cold enough on occasion.  The colonel was staring up at the box occupied by the young lady to whom Loring had bowed.

“Bless my soul, I’m getting near-sighted!” he was saying as Loring joined them.  “Isn’t that Paul Gresham up there with Miss Joy?”

“Is that her name?” asked Gamble eagerly.  “Well, I believe it.”

The colonel turned from him impatiently.

“You know Gresham, don’t you, Loring?  Is that he up there in that box?”

“That is Saint Paul all right,” answered Loring with a smile, as he glanced up at the prim and precise Gresham, who had now succeeded in fencing Miss Joy in a corner, away from the other young men.

“Thanks,” said the colonel, and walked away abstractedly, his eyes still turning in the direction of the box, although he did not even start to go up into the grandstand.