Her Majesty, it seemed, was a damn poor poker player.
The ante had been raised by this time.
Her Majesty was losing one hundred dollars a hand, even before the betting began. But she showed not the slightest indication to stop.
"We've got to get up in the morning," Malone announced to no one in particular, when he thought he couldn't possibly stand another half- hour of the game.
"So we do," Her Majesty said with a little regretful sigh. "Very well, then. Just one more hand."
"It's a shame to lose you," the cowboy said to her, quite sincerely. He had been winning steadily ever since Her Majesty sat down, and Malone thought that the man should, by this time, be awfully grateful to the United States Government. Somehow, he doubted that this gratitude existed.
Malone wondered if she should be allowed to stay for one more hand.
There was, he estimated, about two thousand dollars in front of her.
Then he wondered how he was going to stop her.
The cards were dealt.
The first man said quietly: "Open for two hundred."
Malone looked at the Queen's hand. It contained the Ace, King, Queen and ten of clubs—and the seven of spades.