“Frequently.”
“Never found them marked?”
“Never. They are not marked. I fancied you might think they were. We’ve had experts, regular card sharps, examine packs used in games when he has won heavily.”
Still Merry was not satisfied on this point.
“If they are not marked,” he thought, “Darleton must have an accomplice who gives him tips. The latter seems utterly impossible, and, therefore, the cards must be marked.”
Occasionally Darleton glanced at Merriwell, but every time it seemed that Frank was giving him no attention at all.
Yet every move on the part of the successful player was watched by the young man who had resolved to solve the mystery.
For some time after the appearance of the fresh pack of cards Darleton did little betting. Still he seemed to examine each hand dealt him, and his manner of examining the hands was very critical, as if weighing their value. The cards interested him greatly, although he did not bet.
“Your luck has turned,” cried one of the players. “You haven’t done a thing since the fresh pack was brought.”
“Oh, I’ll get after you again directly,” smiled Darleton. “I’m waiting for the psychological moment, that’s all.”