From time to time I cast a quick glance at the house down the
street, in order to note who was going in.
It must have been over an hour that I waited. It was after ten,
and it became more difficult to watch who was going into the
gambling joint. In fact, several times the street was so blocked
that I could not see very well. But I did happen to catch a
glimpse of one familiar figure across the street from me.
It was Angus Forbes. Where he kept himself in the daytime I did
not know, but he seemed to emerge at night, like a rat, seeking
what to him was now food and drink. I watched him narrowly as he
turned the corner, but there was no use in being too inquisitive.
He was bound as certainly for the gambling joint as a moth would
have headed toward one of the arc lights. Evidently Forbes was
making a vocation of gambling.
Just then a taxicab pulled up hurriedly at the curb near where I
was standing and a hand beckoned me, on the side away from the
gambling house.
I sauntered over and looked in through the open window.
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