The next hand passed without the pot being opened—and the next. Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the rancher.
Five—three.
Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John being sober. He shuffled deliberately and offered the pack to be cut. John cut in the same careless manner, but this time he did it purposely. Lablache picked up the bottom half of the cut. There was a terrible silence in the room, and a deadly purpose was expressed in "Poker" John's eyes.
The money-lender began to deal. In an instant John was on his feet and lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which Lablache had dealt to himself.
"The ace of clubs," shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of clubs.
"Cheat!" he shouted.
He had seen the card at the bottom of the pack as the other had ceased to shuffle.
There was an instant's thrilling pause. Then Lablache's hand flew to his pocket. He had heard the click of a cocking revolver.
For the moment the rancher's old spirit rose superior to his senile debility.
"God in heaven! And this is how you've robbed me, you—you bastard!"