After his interview with her husband that afternoon he had gone to his own apartment.

His bedroom adjoined North's parlor and through the flimsy lath and plaster partition he had distinctly heard a woman's voice.

The sound of that voice and the suspicion it instantly begot added to his furious hatred of North, for he had long suspected that something more than friendship existed between Marshall Langham's wife and Marshall Langham's friend.
"Damn him!" thought the gambler.

"I'll fix him yet!" And he puffed at his cigar viciously.
He had made sure that North's mysterious visitor was Evelyn Langham, for when she left the building he himself had followed her.

Out of the dregs of his nature this foolish mad passion of his had arisen to torture him; he had never spoken with Langham's wife, probably she knew him by sight, nothing more; but still his game, the waiting game he had been forced to play, was working itself out better than he had even hoped! At last he had Marshall Langham where he wanted him, where he could make him feel his power.