He flipped the cards down slowly, one at a time. First a trey, then a four and then three more fours.
Stiffy gulped, reached for the bottle.
But even as he did, Oliver Meek reached out and placed his hand upon the money on the table, fingers wide spread. He'd remembered what he had read in that article....
"Just a minute, gentlemen," he said. "I've remembered something...."
Silence thudded in the room.
Meek looked across the table straight into the eyes of Luke.
Luke said: "You better explain yourself, mister."
Meek suddenly was flustered. "Why, maybe I acted too hastily. It really was nothing. I just noticed something about the deal...."
Luke jerked erect, kicking his chair away with the single motion of rising. The crowd suddenly surged away, out of the line of fire. The bartender ducked behind the bar. Stiffy flung himself with a howl out of his chair, skidded along the floor.
Meek, suddenly straightening from the table, saw Luke's hand streaking for the gun at his belt and in a split second he realized that here he faced a situation that demanded action.