Oh, my God, you don't know what the last three days have been! Give them back to me, won't you--won't you?
You--you don't know!" "Don't lose your nerve!" said Jimmie Dale sharply.

"Sit down!" He pushed the other into the chair.

"There's no one will disturb us here for some time at least.

What is it that I don't know?
That three nights ago you were in a gambling hell, Sagosto's, to be exact, one of the most disreputable in New York--and you went there on the invitation of a stray acquaintance, a man named Perley--shall I describe him for you?
A short, slim-built man, black eyes, red hair, beard, and--" "YOU know that!" The misery, the hopelessness was back in Burton's face again--and suddenly he bent over the table and buried his head in his outflung arms.
There was silence for a moment.

Tight-lipped, Jimmie Dale's eyes travelled from Burton's shaking shoulders to the motionless form on the floor.