“I am!” snapped Hanks, picking up the cards and pushing them across the table. “The pot is yours, Arlington.”
“Thank you,” said Chester suavely, as he raked in the chips.
“Now give me fifty dollars’ worth of those chips,” said the defeated chap, as he flashed his money once more. “I want you to understand that I’m after you, Arlington. I’m going to even up for this devilish streak of yours.”
“Forewarned is forearmed,” laughed Chet, counting out the chips. “Here you are.”
“And here’s your money,” said Hanks, tossing it over.
“Why, I won’t dare breathe in this game,” murmured Harmford. “I certainly didn’t know what I was getting into.”
“If you want to get out,” said Hanks, “Mr. Arlington and I can continue alone.”
“Don’t get out, Harmford,” entreated Chester. “That would spoil the game. Mr. Hanks will feel better after he’s won a pot or two. He seems to be easily disturbed over a little matter like that.”
“I suppose you’ve seen plenty of games opened with hands just like those,” sneered Hanks. “If you have, you began playing with a cold deck. The cards were stacked.”
“You can’t mean such was the case in this game,” said Harmford, “for you shuffled the cards before we cut for deal.”