His blood was up, and in another breath he would have struck the
Spaniard, regardless of consequences, but just at that moment
Allan, dashed out of the crowd crying, breathlessly:
"Oh, boss! Oh, BOSS! Glory to God, it is true! OH-H-H GLORY!"
Seizing Kirk's hands, he kissed them before the other could
prevent, then ran on frantically: "Come quick! Come! Come! Come!"
"Look out!" snapped Kirk, angrily. "What's happened?"
"The dream! The dream is come! Oh, God, sar! You--you have won the
capital prize, sar!"
Alfarez's exclamation, as much as the boy's wild hysteria, brought
Anthony to himself.
"NO! Honest, now! What's the number?" he exclaimed.
"H'eight, h'eight, three, h'eight," sobbed the Jamaican. Kirk made
a dive for his coat-pocket, while Allan continued in a rising
voice:
"Glory to God, sar! Glory to God! It is fifteen thousand dollars
'silver.' I thought I should h'expire from fright. Oh, I--Quick!
Praise be--Do not say you have lost the ticket or I shall die and
kill myself--"
"Here it is!" In his hand Anthony waved a slip of paper, out of
which leaped four big, red numbers-"8838."
"Carraho!" came from behind him, and he turned to behold Alfarez,
livid of face and with shaking hand, fling a handful of similar
coupons after the broken cane.
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