Vance waited without speaking, and Mannix eyed him craftily.
“I’ll cut with you again—two thousand this time. Yes?”
Vance raised his eyebrows. “Double? . . . By all means.” He shuffled the cards, and cut a seven.
Mannix’s hand swooped down and turned a five.
“Well, that’s three thousand I owe you,” he said. His little eyes had now narrowed into slits, and he held his cigar clamped tightly between his teeth.
“Like to double it again—eh, what?” Vance asked. “Four thousand this time?”
Markham looked at Vance in amazement, and over Allen’s face there came an expression of almost ludicrous consternation. Every one present, I believe, was astonished at the offer, for obviously Vance knew that he was giving Mannix tremendous odds by permitting successive doubling. In the end he was sure to lose. I believe Markham would have protested if at that moment Mannix had not snatched the cards from the table and begun to shuffle them.
“Four thousand it is!” he announced, putting down the deck and cutting. He turned up the queen of diamonds. “You can’t beat that lady—positively not!” He was suddenly jovial.
“I fancy you’re right,” murmured Vance; and he cut a trey.
“Want some more?” asked Mannix, with good-natured aggressiveness.