“That’s a lot of money,” declared Chuck, accepting a drink on the house. “I seen old Chuckwalla separatin’ the suits of a deck of cards over there on the sidewalk, and I wondered who he was tryin’ to freeze a deck onto. Here’s how, gents.”
“Separatin’ the suits, eh?” said Angel thoughtfully.
“I’ll bet that was yore deck,” said one of the men. “But what was his idea of separatin’ the suits, I wonder?”
“Probably tryin’ to see if it was a full deck,” laughed the bartender.
“Well, he ought to know it wasn’t. There was four cards left on the table. I saw Angel tear ’em up and throw ’em in a cuspidor. Old Chuckwalla Ike’s drunk.”
Angel nodded slowly, thoughtfully. He knew—and deep in his soul he cursed old Chuckwalla heartily, as he turned away from the bar and went back to his room.
“Kind of a funny deal,” said one of the men. “It ain’t none of my business, but nobody seen Angel’s cards on that last deal. He jist said he’d pay eighteen, which would indicate that he had seventeen. But did he? The old man walked right out, and Angel tore up them four cards.”
“He wouldn’t cheat his own father, would he?” asked Chuck.
“I didn’t say he did. But on one hand he drew a deuce, ace, ace, to tie the old man’s twenty-one.”
“That don’t pr-r-rove anythin’,” said Scotty.