And this
self-indulgence proved in the end the ruin of his fine scheme of
establishing himself in life on a sound monetary basis.
Tinker was about to get into bed one evening, and found himself slow
about it. His conscience was worrying him about some duty left undone,
and he could not remember what the duty was. Of a sudden his terrible
omission flashed into his mind: in his patient application to the task
of shadowing and annoying Mr. Arthur Courtnay he had forgotten his
daily bolt into the gambling rooms. Reluctant, but firm, he slipped on
his pumps and went downstairs. Four minutes later the feverish
gamblers in the Salles de Jeu were gratified by the sight of a
seraph-like child in blue silk pyjamas who flew gaily round the tables
pursued by two stout and joyfully excited Southern Europeans in livery.
The pursuit was lively, but short, for Tinker ran into the arms of a
wily croupier who had slipped from his seat, and unexpectedly joined
the chase. He was handed over to his pursuers and conducted from the
rooms, amidst the plaudits of the gamblers. He bade good-night to his
liveried friends on the threshold of the Casino, congratulating them on
their increasing efficiency in "Le Sport," and warm, but happy with the
sense of one more duty done, he strolled into the gardens to cool.
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