Victor Burns, like all the rest around the table, had eyes only for the beautiful woman, with her graceful figure a-shimmer with the twinkling beads of her gown, and with her wealth of vivid hair under her modish hat framing a face which he was never tired of gazing upon.
Claire smiled her prompt reply, her lips parting and revealing a row of perfect teeth as she “saw” the bet and raised it another five hundred. The challenge was thrilling and on the instant every eye focussed on the man at the end of the table.
He raised his strange eyes and gazed hardly into those of the girl, and as he passed his chips into the centre of the table, McLagan drew a deep breath.
“Curse it, ther’s your fi’ hundred, an’ another on top of it. Will you see it?”
“Surely. And raise it.” Claire’s retort came in tones of smiling, unruffled calm. “It’ll cost you a thousand more.”
The man laughed. But the laugh was harsh and unconvincing in its lack of mirth.
“I like it in thousands,” he cried, as the girl’s chips were slid into place to swell the pot. “There’s your thousand and another. Well?”
There was a shuffling of feet amongst the spectators and several coughed. It was an expression of the wave of excitement surging.
“Perfectly well.”