“Never mind,” said he to his friends, “he can’t do it again, you know; it was all luck that time, I shall now go in and win with a rush.”
Alick had similar ideas also, and gained on Fumbleton so far, that when but fifty points remained to be played Alick was but five behind.
The chances row began to fluctuate, and Fumbleton’s friends, being still confident, freely laid odds, which were now eagerly taken.
In truth the silly swell had made such fine play that but five remained to complete his score, and make him the winner.
The other had twenty-five to get; but these were gotten with so much rapidity that Alick, in enthusiasm, overran that number, amid the applause of those in the “secret,” but apparently to his own dissatisfaction, for he seemed surprised and annoyed, whispering confidentially, as he pitched his cue and the bridge into the corner,
“I’ve won, but, upon my soul, Mr. Fumbleton, I wasn’t aware of it; I intended to lose!”
This was exceedingly poor consolation to the swell, who sat vacantly looking at the billiard board as one in a trance or dream.
It seemed that he considered it impossible to be beaten by such an opponent as Alick!
He was mistaken, however, and the best proof of it was that the money was handed over to Alick that same night, and the swell discovered himself to be minus of not less than five hundred pounds out of the six hundred pounds which he had brought to the billiard room with him.
“Who’d a thought,” mused Fumbleton, “that I should have lost in so unaccountable a manner; I am out of luck to-night, that’s it! I can beat two such players as he is at any time; but you can’t play against luck!”