“He's a devilish cool player—that's certain. I never saw a man more collected.”
“He studies his adversary far more than his cards—I remark that.”
“Oh! here's old Clangoff come to try his luck:” and an opening of the crowd was now made to permit a tall and very old man to approach the table. Very much stooped in the shoulders, and with snow-white hair, Lord Clangoff still preserved the remains of one who in his youth had been the handsomest man of his day. Although simply dressed in the Windsor uniform, the brilliant rings he wore upon his fingers, and the splendour of a gold snuff-box surrounded by enormous diamonds, evinced the taste for magnificence for which he was celebrated. There was an air of dignity with which he took his seat, saluting the acquaintances he recognised about him, very strikingly in contrast with the familiar manners then growing into vogue, while in the courteous urbanity of his bow to Talbot, his whole breeding was revealed.
“It is a proud thing even to encounter such an adversary, sir,” said he, smiling. “They have just told me that you have vanquished our best players.”
“The caprice of Fortune, my lord, that so often favours the undeserving,” said Talbot, with a gesture of extreme humility.
“Your success should be small at play, if the French adage have any truth in it,” said his lordship, alluding to Talbot's handsome features, which seemed to indicate favour with the softer sex.
“According to that theory, my lord, I have the advantage over you at present.”
This adroit flattery of the other's earlier reputation as a gallant, seemed to please him highly; for, as he presented his box to one of his friends near, he whispered—“A very well-bred fellow, indeed,” Then turning to Talbot, said, “Do you like a high stake?”
“I am completely at your service, my lord—whatever you please.”
“Shall we say fifty?—or do you prefer a hundred?”