Gorman looked at it for a second, and then with an oath he threw his own cards on to the floor.
“Four knaves and a queen, and I had at first an ace and a king. So I must win with them.”
“The question is, what had Bowker? He don’t look like telling you, and nobody else knows; besides, the game has not been played out. It’s a draw,” said one of the on-lookers, and this speech brought a murmur of consent from the others.
Gorman gathered up his cards and showed them to the company. Then he said no more, but watched Bowker, who seemed to be coming to.
“Look here, what was your hand?” he asked, when the latter seemed to be sensible.
Bowker, however, did not answer the question, and it was some months before he could be induced to talk about that game. Until Gorman left the Fields his mind was a blank on the subject.
The story went, however, that he was induced to tell in confidence the story of that night’s play to a particular friend.
He had held three aces and two kings. Not a very good hand, but one worth backing for a little. Gorman, however, had taken him up, and instead of throwing up his hand, he had determined to bluff. He had originally held a queen, so he knew that Gorman could not hold four of aces, kings, or queens. He could remember getting to the end of his tether, and finding Gorman sticking to him like grim death; and then he could remember no more. It was only after Gorman had left for England that this story was told. Some people shrug their shoulders and laugh when they talk of that fit which Bowker had, and they say that under the circumstances it was the best thing he could have done. But the doctor who attended him knows it was real enough, and so does Gorman, who saw it coming on.