"That's good enough for me," said Bunning-Ford. "Let it go at that."

Outwardly Lablache was indifferent; inwardly he experienced a sense of
supreme satisfaction at the height of the stakes.

The four men relapsed into silence as they cut for the deal. It was an
education in the game to observe each man as he, metaphorically
speaking, donned his mask of impassive reserve. As the game progressed
any one of those four men might have been a graven image as far as the
expression of countenance went. No word was spoken beyond "Raise you so
and so"--"See you that." So keen, so ardent was the game that the stake
might have been one of life and death. No money passed. Just slips of
paper; and yet any one of those fragments represented a small fortune.

The first few hands resulted in but desultory betting. Sums of money
changed hands but there was very little in it. Lablache was the
principal loser. Three "pots" in succession were taken by John
Allandale, but their aggregate did not amount to half the limit. A
little luck fell to Bunning-Ford. He once raised Lablache to the limit.
The money-lender "saw" him and lost. Bill promptly scooped in three
thousand dollars. The doctor was cautious. He had lost and won nothing.
Then a change came over the game. To use a card-player's expression, the
cards were beginning to "run."

"Lord" Bill dealt. Lablache was upon his right and next to him the
doctor.

The money-lender picked up his cards, and partially opening them glanced
keenly at the index numerals. His stolid face remained unchanged. The
doctor glanced at his and "came in." "Poker" John "came in." The dealer