CHAPTER 22
“My Name’s Pollard,” said the older man. “Joe Pollard.”
“Glad to know you, sir. My name—is Terry.” The other admitted this
reticence with a faint smile.
“I got a name around here for keeping my mouth shut and not butting in on
another gent’s game. But I always noticed that when a gent is in a losing
run, half the time he don’t know it. Maybe that might be the way with
you. I been watching and seen your winnings shrink considerable lately.”
Terry weighed his money. “Yes, it’s shrunk a good deal.”
“Stand out of the game till later on. Come over and have a bite to eat
with me.”
He went willingly, suddenly aware of a raging appetite and a dinner long
postponed. The man of the black beard was extremely friendly.
“One of the prettiest runs I ever see, that one you made,”
