"They're bound to," cried Roger. "They're bluffed to a standstill, and they know it. With Corey's backing down they've got to follow suit—pride or no pride."
"I suppose you're pretty pleased," said Good with a smile.
"Pleased? Honest, I'm tickled pink! I feel as if I'd been sitting in on a sky-the-limit game boosting the ante with a pair of shoe-strings. I've felt like passing lots of times. Without you at my elbow I guess I'd have done it."
"You think that's—unusual?"
"Maybe not that. But I do feel—well—like a burglar."
"My dear boy," laughed Good, "I'm not much of a business man, but I think a general show-down would reveal a lot of jokers in front of chaps who are playing like royal flushes. A good face with an empty hand wins in other games besides poker. You can't bank nerve—but you can draw checks on it."
As he finished speaking, a boy entered and handed him a card. He glanced at it, hesitated a moment, scratching his head thoughtfully, and then, with an inscrutable smile, passed it to Roger.
"It's for you, lad."
"But didn't he ask for you?" said Roger surprisedly.
"Yes—but he made a mistake."