Cheating in those long-ago days was happily a rare occurrence; a man about town might beggar his parents, or drive his wife into the workhouse, and still hold up his head as a man of honour if he met his card debts on the nail; but “sharping” was practically unknown till some years later, when a scandal that thrilled Europe and involved a deep erasure in the Army List was enacted at Nice.
The Raleigh, meanwhile, was gradually simmering down; choice spirits had started for Cremorne or Mott’s; the more soberly amused had wended their steps towards Evans’s, and the residue might have been classed as either punters or puntees—if such base coin will bear alloy.
Seated in the card room, Biscoe still smoked in his solitude; before him was a gilt-bound volume such as betting men affect, and its contemplation apparently did not afford unalloyed pleasure. “Egad,” he muttered, “£4,000, more or less, and not a hundred to meet it with; to-night it’s neck or nothing, and if nobody bleeds I shall be unable to face the music on Monday. Ah, De Hoghton,” he exclaimed, barely looking up as an apparition in velvet and red tie appeared, “been at Epsom? No? Perhaps you were wise.”
Paddy was too clever to suggest a game, knowing as he did the eccentric baronet’s peculiarities. “Never mind,” he continued, “better luck to-morrow, perhaps. I’m half asleep. Good-night,” and he rose as if about to depart.
“What’s the hurry?” inquired the new arrival. “If you want to keep awake I’ll play you half a dozen games of ecarté, but only for small stakes, mind.”
Want indeed! It was what Biscoe had wanted for hours, and as to the stakes, did he not know from delightful experience that if they began at £5 it would not be long before the game was for hundreds, and that his adversary’s rent roll might be counted in thousands?
“My dear Sir Henry,” replied Biscoe, “name your own stakes. No fear of making them too low. I feel in bad form to-night, and your science will be altogether too much for me.”
“Say a pony then,” continued the baronet, and they cut for deal.
Meanwhile the room began gradually to fill, and as the unmistakable flutter of crisp notes—for which no resemblance has ever been discovered—made itself heard in the long room, George Hay and a troop of others sauntered negligently into the room.
“Sit beside me, Colonel,” De Hoghton requested a grizzly, rubicund warrior, “you’ll be able to advise me when they make a pool.”