Kepplinger was a professional gambler; that is what he was. In other words, he was a sharp—and of the sharpest.
As to the date at which this bright particular Star of the West first dawned upon the horizon of 'Tom Tiddler's Ground' deponent sayeth not. Neither have we any substantial record of the facts connected with the conception and elaboration of that great idea with which his name is associated. Of its introduction into the field of practical utility, however, and its subsequent revelation to the fraternity to whom its existence was of the utmost consequence, the details are available, and therefore may be revealed. The event occurred in this wise, as follows, that is to say:—
In the year of grace 1888, Kepplinger, the inventor, gambler and cheat, was resident and pursuing his daily avocations in the city known colloquially as 'Frisco.'
Now it is a singular feature of human nature that, whatever a man's calling may be, however arduous or exacting, he becomes in course of time so much a creature of habit that he is never really happy apart from it. One may suppose that it is the consciousness of ability to do certain things, and to do them well, which accounts for this fact. At any rate, the fact remains. We are all alike in this respect—especially some of us. The barrister at leisure will prefer to sit in Court and watch another conducting a case; the actor with an evening to spare will go and see someone else act; the omnibus-driver with a day off will perch himself upon a friend's vehicle, and ride to and fro; and the sharp will infallibly spend his leisure moments in gambling. When there are no dupes to be plundered, no 'pigeons' who have a feather left to fly with, the 'rooks' will congregate in some sequestered spot, and enjoy a quiet game all to themselves. And they play fairly? Yes—if they are obliged to do so; not otherwise. They will cheat each other if they can. Honour amongst thieves! Nonsense.
In 1888, then, Kepplinger's relaxation for some months consisted of a 'hard game' with players who were all professional sharps like himself. The circle was composed entirely of men who thought they 'knew the ropes' as well as he did. In that, however, they were considerably in error. He was acquainted with a trick worth any two which they could have mentioned. However much the fortunes of the others might vary, Kepplinger never sustained a loss. On the contrary, he always won. The hands he held were enough to turn any gambler green with envy, and yet, no one could detect him in cheating. His companions were, of course, all perfectly familiar with the appliances of their craft. Holdouts in a game of that description would have been, one would think, useless incumbrances. The players were all too well acquainted with the signs and tokens accompanying such devices, and Kepplinger gave no sign of the employment of anything of the kind. He sat like a statue at the table, he kept his cards right away from him, he did not move a muscle as far as could be seen; his opponents could look up his sleeve almost to the elbow, and yet he won.
This being the condition of affairs, it was one which could not by any stretch of courtesy be considered satisfactory to anyone but Kepplinger himself. Having borne with the untoward circumstances as long as their curiosity and cupidity would allow them, his associates at length resolved upon concerted action. Arranging their plan of attack, they arrived once again at the rendezvous, and commenced the game as usual. Then, suddenly and without a moment's warning, Kepplinger was seized, gagged, and held hard and fast.
Then the investigation commenced. The great master-cheat was searched, and upon him was discovered the most ingenious holdout ever devised.
What did the conspirators do then? Did they 'lay into him' with cudgels, or 'get the drop' on him with 'six-shooters'? Did they, for instance, hand him over to the Police? No! ten thousand times no! They did none of those things, nor had they ever any intention of doing anything of the kind. Being only human—and sharps—they did what they considered would serve their own interests best. A compact was entered into, whereby Kepplinger agreed to make a similar instrument to the one he was wearing for each of his captors, and once again the temporary and short-lived discord gave place to harmony and content.
Had Kepplinger been content to use less frequently the enormous advantage he possessed, and to have exercised more discretion in winning, appearing to lose sometimes, his device might have been still undiscovered.
It was thus, then, that the secret leaked out, and probably without the occurrence of this 'little rift within the lute'—or should it be loot?—the reader might not have had this opportunity of inspecting the details of the 'Kepplinger' or 'San Francisco' holdout.