“Mark me, Chick,” added Nick. “He will make Kendall win a sum sufficient to square him at the bank—ninety thousand dollars.”
“Good God!” muttered Chick. “Do you think so?”
“Wait and see.”
“What will you do about Kendall in that case?”
“I shall be governed by what I observe,” whispered Nick. “Be careful to give no sign that we are wise to anything. This is one of the most extraordinary episodes I ever witnessed.”
“But what object can Flood have in——”
“Hush! I can guess what it is, and for all the world I would not get in his way. I will explain it to you later. No more now, Chick. They’re off again.”
Flood again had shuffled and stripped the cards, then placed them in the deal box. Looking at his coldly stoical face, one would have said that he was utterly unconscious of his losses.
“You have emptied the chip-rack, Kendall,” said he deliberately. “Count me back twenty thousand dollars’ worth of your chips. I will note the sum, and pay you at the end of your play.”
He had no fear that the player would quit on the strength of such a proposition. He knew him too well—and his dire need to win more.