Vance paused and looked up.
“You perhaps recall the circumstances? It was a jack-pot. Allen dealt Cleaver a four-straight-flush and gave me three kings. The other hands were so poor that every one else was compelled to drop out. I opened; and Cleaver stayed. On the draw, Allen gave me another king, and gave Cleaver the card he needed to complete his straight-flush. Twice I bet a small amount, and each time Cleaver raised me. Finally I called him, and, of course, he won. He couldn’t help but win, d’ ye see. He was betting on a sure-thing. Since I opened the pot and drew two cards, the highest hand I could possibly have held would have been four of a kind. Cleaver knew this, and having a straight-flush, he also knew, before he raised my bet, that he had me beaten. At once I realized that he was not the man I was after.”
“By what reasoning?”
“A poker-player, Markham, who would bet on a sure-thing is one who lacks the egotistical self-confidence of the highly subtle and supremely capable gambler. He is not a man who will take hazardous chances and tremendous risks, for he possesses, to some degree, what the psychoanalysts call an inferiority complex, and instinctively he grasps at every possible opportunity of protecting and bettering himself. In short, he is not the ultimate, unadulterated gambler. And the man who killed the Odell girl was a supreme gambler who would stake everything on a single turn of the wheel, for, in killing her, that is exactly what he did. And only a gambler whose paramount self-confidence would make him scorn, through sheer egotism, to bet on a sure-thing, could have committed such a crime.—Therefore, Cleaver was eliminated as a suspect.”
Markham was now listening intently.
“The test to which I put Spotswoode a little later,” Vance went on, “had originally been intended for Mannix, but he was out of the game. That didn’t matter, however, for, had I been able to eliminate both Cleaver and Spotswoode, then Mannix would undoubtedly have been the guilty man. Of course I would have planned something else to substantiate the fact; but, as it was, that wasn’t necess’ry. . . . The test I applied to Spotswoode was pretty well explained by the gentleman himself. As he said, not one player in a thousand would have wagered the limit against a pat hand, when he himself held nothing. It was tremendous—superb! It was probably the most remarkable bluff ever made in a game of poker. I couldn’t help admiring him when he calmly shoved forward all his chips, knowing, as I did, that he held nothing. He staked everything, d’ ye see, wholly on his conviction that he could follow my reasoning step by step and, in the last analysis, outwit me. It took courage and daring to do that. And it also took a degree of self-confidence which would never have permitted him to bet on a sure-thing. The psychological principles involved in that hand were identical with those of the Odell crime. I threatened Spotswoode with a powerful hand—a pat hand—just as the girl, no doubt, threatened him; and instead of compromising—instead of calling me or laying down—he outreached me; he resorted to one supreme coup, though it meant risking everything. . . . My word, Markham! Can’t you see how the man’s character, as revealed in that amazing gesture, dovetails with the psychology of the crime?”
Markham was silent for a while; he appeared to be pondering the matter.
“But you yourself, Vance, were not satisfied at the time,” he submitted at length. “In fact, you looked doubtful and worried.”
“True, old dear. I was no end worried. The psychological proof of Spotswoode’s guilt came so dashed unexpectedly—I wasn’t looking for it, don’t y’ know. After eliminating Cleaver I had a parti pris, so to speak, in regard to Mannix; for all the material evidence in favor of Spotswoode’s innocence—that is, the seeming physical impossibility of his having strangled the lady—had, I admit, impressed me. I’m not perfect, don’t y’ know. Being unfortunately human, I’m still susceptible to the malicious animal magnetism about facts and appearances, which you lawyer chaps are continuously exuding over the earth like some vast asphyxiating effluvium. And even when I found that Spotswoode’s psychological nature fitted perfectly with all the factors of the crime, I still harbored a doubt in regard to Mannix. It was barely possible that he would have played the hand just as Spotswoode played it. That is why, after the game was over, I tackled him on the subject of gambling. I wanted to check his psychological reactions.”
“Still, he staked everything on one turn of the wheel, as you put it.”