“Who said ’twasn’t? I said dealer!” snarled Nick ferociously.
Godard’s hand shook visibly as he shoved the desired stacks of chips toward Nick. The strain upon him was something frightful, and his brain felt as if seared with a terrible heat. The gravity of the situation seemed to steadily increase, and fear of what might occur was taking ugly hold upon him. He ground his teeth together, and nerved himself to finish the deal.
From the top of the box to the bottom Nick did not win a bet.
He started the second deal ten thousand dollars loser, and Godard was trembling in his chair.
The second deal was about like the first.
Nick played to lose. He coppered the winning cards, and played the losers to win. Time and time again he forced himself to call for more chips, and each time noticed that Godard was becoming more and more beside himself. The perspiration stood in great drops on the latter’s face, and the arteries of his neck and brow were pulsing violently. Nick saw that he had him nearly where he wanted him.
Even Belle Braddon was gazing with affrighted eyes upon the dreadful scene, hushed and pale now, with her hands pressed above her heart.
Chick saw by the look in Nick’s eyes that the climax was approaching, and he quietly made ready for it.
Half-a-minute later Nick drove the knife deeper into his victim.
The deal had come down to two turns only, and Nick knew the cues were wrong and that Godard must take a card to right them.