could have nothing higher than four kings. Strictly speaking, there was only one hand that could beat Lionel's—a straight flush; but then a straight flush is an uncommonly rare thing; and, besides, the appearance of five aces in one's hand seems to convey a sense of quite unlimited power. That five aces are no better than four aces does not strike the possessor of them; he regards the goodly show—and strives to conceal his elation.
But even the onlookers, intensely interested as they were in this fell combat, began to grow afraid when they guessed at the sum that was now in the imaginary pool. The story might get about the club; the committee might shut up the card-room; there might be a talk of expulsion. As for Lionel, he kept saying to himself, "Well, this is a safe thing; and I could go on all night; but I won't take a brutal advantage. As soon as I think I have got back about what this young fellow has already taken from me since he came into the club, I will stop. I don't want to break him. I don't want to send him to the money-lenders."
As for the pale young man across the table, his demeanor was that of a perfect poker-player. The only thing that could be noticed was a slight contraction of his pupils, as if he were concentrating his eyes on the things immediately around him and trying to leave his face quite inscrutable. There was no eagerness in his betting—nor was there any affected resignation; it was entirely mechanical; like clock-work came the raised and raised bet.
"I call you," said Lionel, at last, amid a breathless silence.
Without a word Percival Miles laid his cards on the table, arranging them in sequence; they were five, six, seven, eight, and nine of clubs—not an imposing hand, certainly, but Lionel knew his doom was sealed. He rose from his chair, with a brief laugh that did not sound very natural.
"I think I know when I've had enough," he said. "Good-night!" And "Good-night!" came from one and all of them—though there was an ominous pause until the door was shut behind him.
He went down below, to the supper-room, which was all deserted now; he drew in a chair to a small writing-table and took a sheet of note-paper. On it he scrawled, with rather a feverish hand:
"As I understand it, I owe you £800 on this evening, with £300 from yesterday—£1100 in all. I will try to let you have it to-morrow. L.M."—and that he put in an envelope, which he addressed to "Percival Miles, Esq.," and sent up-stairs by one of the servants. Then he went and got his coat and hat, and left. It was raining hard, and there was a blustering wind, but he called no hansom; the wet and cold seemed grateful to him, for he was hot and excited. And then, somewhat blindly, and bare-throated, he passed through the streaming thoroughfares—caring little how long it took him to reach Piccadilly.
The joker is a fifty-third card, of any kind of device, which is added to the pack; the player to whom it is dealt can make it any card he chooses. For example, if the other four cards he holds are two queens and two sevens, he can make the joker card a third queen, and thus secure for himself a full hand.