The operator who has adopted this form of instrument will enter the room where card-players are assembled, chewing his tooth-pick after the approved Piccadilly fashion of a few years ago. Having taken his place at the table, he throws down the tooth-pick in front of him, with the pointed end turned towards him. His mirror then comes into play, in the same manner as that of the pipe-reflector aforesaid.
One form of reflector which is very useful to the sharp in a single-handed game, is that mentioned in one of the catalogues as being intended to stand behind a pile of 'chips' or counters upon the table. It may appear to the uninitiated that there would be great difficulty in concealing a mirror in this way. Such, undoubtedly, would be the case if only one pile of chips were used. By placing two piles side by side, however, the difficulty disappears. With counters, say, an inch and a quarter in diameter, there is ample space behind two piles, when standing close together, to accommodate and conceal a tolerably large reflector, as such things go.
The mirror in this case is mounted somewhat after the fashion of a linen-prover; and precisely resembles a small hinge. The hinge being opened, reveals the reflector. It is set at a suitable angle and simply laid upon the table, either behind the rouleaux of counters, as explained above, or behind a pile of bank-notes, as may be most convenient. If the sharp should unhappily be compelled to part with either counters or notes—a circumstance, by the way, which should never occur in the ordinary course of events—though accidents will happen now and then—the reflector can be closed up and secreted in an instant.
It is a neat little device, and one well worthy the notice of intending purchasers. (See advt.)
In connection with sharping of any kind, as in every other branch of art, whether sacred or profane, legal or illegal, one fact is always distinctly noticeable. No matter what improvements may be made, or what amount of complexity may be introduced into any system, or into the appliances which have been invented to meet its requirements, the practice of its leading exponents always tends towards simplicity of operation. To this rule there are very few exceptions. The greatest minds are, as a rule, content to use the simplest methods. Not the easiest, bear in mind, but the simplest. The simple tools are generally more difficult to use with effect than the more elaborate ones. The great painter with no other tools than his palette-knife and his thumb will produce work which could not be imitated by a man of inferior talents, although he had the entire stock of Rowney or Winsor and Newton at his disposal. So, in like manner, is it with the really great expert in sharping. With a small unmounted mirror, and a bit of cobbler's wax, he will win more money than a duffer who possesses the most perfect mechanical arrangement ever adapted to a reflector. It is the quality of the man which tells, not that of his tools.
It may perhaps be asked then, if the simplest appliances are best, why is it that they are not generally adopted, in place of the more complicated devices. That, however, is just the same thing as asking why an organ-grinder is content to wind out machine-made airs during the whole of his existence, rather than to devote his time to the far less expensive process of learning to play an instrument. The answer is the same in both cases. It is simply that machinery is made to take the place of skill. The machine can be obtained by the expenditure of so much or so little money, whilst the skill can only be obtained by a lifetime of practice. Your duffer, as a rule, does not care about hard work. He prefers a situation where all the hard work is put out, and the less irksome is done by somebody else. Hence the demand for cheating-tools which will throw the responsibility of success or failure upon the manufacturer, leaving the operator at liberty to acquire just as much skill as he pleases, or to do without skill altogether if he thinks fit.
According to one of the leading experts in America, the above-mentioned bit of cobbler's wax, in conjunction with the plain unmounted mirror, is by far the best method of employing a reflector. The mirror is simply attached, by means of the wax, to the palm of the hand near the edge; and when it is fixed in this position, the little indices, usually found upon the corners of modern playing-cards, can be read quite easily. Furthermore, so situated, the reflector is quite secure from observation.
The majority of sharps, however, appear to strike the happy medium between the simplicity of this device and the complexity of the 'reflector attached to machine.' Thus, it is the table-reflector which appears to be the most popular for general use, although from its nature it is not well-adapted for use in a round game. There are too many people to the right and left of the operator. For a single-handed game, however, where the sharp has no opportunity of 'getting his own cards in,' it is invaluable.
Supposing, then, for the moment, gentle reader, that you were a sharp, your plan of working the table-reflector would be as follows. You would find your 'mug' (first catch your hare), and perhaps you might induce him to invite you to his club. Having got your hand in to this extent, doubtless you would find means of persuading him to engage you in a game of cards, 'just to pass the time.' He thinks, no doubt, that he is perfectly safe, as the club cards are being used, and moreover being in all probability what is known in 'sporting' circles as a 'fly-flat'—that is, a fool who thinks himself wise—he imagines that he knows enough about cheating to 'spot' anyone who had the audacity to 'try it on' with him. Now, if there is one thing more certain than another, it is that a sharp is always safest in the hands of a man who thinks he knows a lot. The event will nearly always prove that his knowledge is limited to an imperfect acquaintance with some of the older forms of manipulation; things which have been discarded as obsolete by all practical men. Therefore, if he anticipates cheating at all, he prepares himself to look out for something vastly different to what is about to take place. His mind running in a groove, he is preoccupied with matters which are of no importance to him; and thus falls an easy prey to the sharper.
In such a case, then, you have a 'soft thing.' You select a table which affords you the opportunity of securing a nice, convenient seat, with your back to the wall. You fix your 'shiner' just under the edge of the table, and engage your 'pigeon' in a single-handed game of poker. If you are worth your salt, you ought to pluck him—nay, skin him, for all he is worth.