We sauntered into another room where they were playing keno.  Keno was, we soon found, a development or an outgrowth of lotto, in which cards were sold to the players, bearing numbers which were covered with buttons, as in lotto.  The game was won when a row was full after drawing forth the numbers on little balls from a “goose.”

“Like the roulette wheel,” said Garrick grimly, “the ‘goose’ is crooked, and if I had time I could show you how it is done.”

We passed by the hazard boards as too complicated for the limited time at our disposal.

It was, however, the roulette table which seemed to interest Garrick most, partly for the reason that most of the players flocked about it.

The crowd around the table on the second floor was several deep, now.  Among those who were playing I noticed a new face.  It was of a tall, young man much the worse, apparently, for the supposed good time he had had already.  The game seemed to have sobered him up a bit, for he was keen as to mind, now, although a trifle shaky as to legs.

He glanced up momentarily from his close following of the play as we approached.

“Hello, W.,” he remarked, as he caught sight of our young companion.

A moment later he had gone back to the game as keen as ever.

“Hello, F.,” greeted Warrington.  Then, aside to us, he added, “You know they don’t use names now in gambling places if they can help it.  Initials do just as well.  That is Forbes, of whom I told you.  He’s a young fellow of good family—­but I am afraid he is going pretty much to the bad, or will go, if he doesn’t quit soon.  I wish I could stop him.  He’s a nice chap.  I knew him well at college and we have chummed about a great deal.  He’s here too much of the time for his own good.”

The thing was fascinating, I must admit, no matter what the morals of it were.  I became so engrossed that I did not notice a man standing opposite us.  I was surprised when he edged over towards us slowly, then whispered to Garrick, “Meet me downstairs in the grill in five minutes, and have a bite to eat.  I have something important to say.  Only, be careful and don’t get me ‘in Dutch’ here.”

The man had a sort of familiar look and his slang certainly reminded me of someone we had met.

“Who was it?” I inquired under my breath, as he disappeared among the players.

“Didn’t you recognize him?” queried Garrick.  “Why, that was Herman, Dillon’s man,—­the fellow, you know, who is investigating this place.”

I had not recognized the detective in evening clothes.  Indeed, I felt that unless he were known here already his disguise was perfect.

Garrick managed to leave Warrington for a time under the pretext that he wanted him to keep an eye on Forbes while we explored the place further.  We walked leisurely down the handsome staircase into the grill and luncheon room downstairs.

“Well, have you found out anything?” asked a voice behind us.