“Eighty-one.”
“A lakh!” cried Irwin, who was now pale from excitement.
“Really?” asked McGregor calmly, “that is a fine bid. A lakh—that is, reckoned at the present rate of exchange, 6,500 pounds sterling. You will be a wealthy man, Irwin, if you win. Now, then, I see you.”
With trembling fingers, but with a triumphant look, the Captain laid down his cards.
“Straight flush,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes, a strong hand,” replied the other, smiling. “But which is your highest card?”
“The king, as you see for yourself.”
“That’s a pity, for I have also, as it happens, a straight flush, but mine is up to the ace.”
Slowly, one after the other, he laid down his cards—ace of hearts, king of hearts, queen of hearts, knave of hearts, ten of hearts. One single exclamation of surprise came from the lips of the bystanders. None of them had ever seen the coincidence of such an extraordinary sequence.
Captain Irwin sat motionless for a moment, fixing his unsteady eyes straight upon his adversary’s cards. Then he suddenly sprang up with a wild laugh, and left the tent with jingling steps.