Twenty minutes to eleven
Tobacco could wait ; fortune might not . Still , he took out a cigar , bit off the end , and put it back in his pocket . And where the deuce had Hillard gone ? Twenty minutes to eleven , and no sign of him since the play began . He counted off ten coins and placed them on the second dozen . The ball rolled into number twenty-three . He leaned back again with a second sigh , and the pretty woman smiled a second smile , and the wooden rake pushed the beautiful gold over to him .