Chapter 1. The Sweetheart Of A King
_ CHAPTER I. THE SWEETHEART OF A KING
The scene was not exactly new to me. Moved by the spirit of adventure, or by an access of ennui which overtakes me at times, I had several times visited the gaudy establishment of Mercer, on the fashionable side of Fifth Avenue in the Fifties. In either case I had found disappointment； where the stake is a matter of indifference there can be no excitement； and besides, I had been always in luck.
But on this occasion I had a real purpose before me, though not an important one, and I surrendered my hat and coat to the servant at the door with a feeling of satisfaction.
At the entrance to the main room I met Bob Garforth, leaving. There was a scowl on his face and his hand trembled as he held it forth to take mine.
"Harry is inside. What a rotten hole," said he, and passed on. I smiled at his remark--it was being whispered about that Garforth had lost a quarter of a million at Mercer‘s within the

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