“I don’t like this, Bert,” Mellish said, “and I think this game had better stop right here.”
“Then you are not convinced that I am sure of my money?”
“Yes, I am, but——”
“That’s enough for me. Get out your new pack.”
“You’ve given your word, Mellish,” said Pony, seeing the keeper of the house was about to speak. “Don’t say any more.”
“For such a sum two out of three is too sudden. Make it five out of nine,” put in Bert.
“I’m willing.”
The new pack of cards was brought and the wrappings torn off.
“You shuffle first; I’ll cut,” said Rowell. His lips seemed parched and he moistened them now and then, which was unusual for so cool a gambler. Mellish fidgeted around with lowered brow. Bert shuffled the cards as nonchalantly as if he had merely a $5 bill on the result. When each had taken a card, Bert held an ace and Pony a king. Pony shuffled and the turn up was a spot in Pony’s hand and queen in that of his opponent. Bert smiled and drops began to show on Pony’s forehead in spite of his efforts at self-control. No word was spoken by either players or onlookers. After the next deal Pony again lost. His imperturbability seemed to be leaving him. He swept the cards from the table with an oath. “Bring another pack,” he said hoarsely.
Bert smiled at him across the table. He thought, of course, that they were playing for even stakes.