Colonel Thorndyke's Secret by G. A. Henty (acx book reading TXT) 📖

“Well, Mark, if you have set your mind on it, of course I will stick to you, though I have some doubts whether Cotter has any brains to speak of to blow out, else he would not be mad enough to back himself against Emerson and other men whom Boldero tells me he has been playing with.”

“He has made an ass of himself, no doubt, Dick; but I fancy a good many fellows do that at one time or other of their lives, though not, I grant, always in the same way.”

“Well, I will go, Mark. I need not ask Boldero, for he told me that he should look in again at ten o'clock this evening, for he thought that another night's play would probably bring Cotter to the end of his tether.”

Accordingly a little before ten they walked into the gambling house together.

“Now, Dick, I want you, as soon as you sit down, to take your place in the front line within a yard or two of Emerson. I don't want you to be just behind him, but a short distance away; and I want you to keep your eye upon Sir James Flash, who, if I am not mistaken, will take up the same position that he did last night, near enough to Cotter to see his hand. You will remark, I have no doubt, as I did last night, that whenever Cotter has a bad hand, Flash will either close his eyes, or put his hand up to his mouth and stroke his mustache, or make some sign of that sort. When Cotter has a good hand he will stand perfectly still or look about the room. At any rate, he will make no sign—that, of course, is a guide to Emerson whether to propose or to refuse to allow Cotter to do so. I need not point out to you what a tremendous advantage the knowledge whether an opponent's hand is good or not gives him. Of course, while watching an hour's play I can only know that Flash was making signs, and that when he did so Cotter's hand was a bad one. It is possible that the manner in which the sign was made, either by closing his eye or twisting his mustache, or so on, may have been an intimation as to the suit in which Cotter was strongest or weakest.”

“By Jove, this is a serious thing, Mark.”

“It is a serious thing. I don't want you to get into a row with the fellow. I should like you to give me a nod when you have satisfied yourself that I was not mistaken. I will take upon myself to denounce the fellow, and to say what I noticed yesterday and you can back me up by saying that you saw the same thing. I have no doubt that I shall be able to convince every decent man there that my charge is well founded. I am going to watch Emerson. With the help he gets from Flash, he won't risk anything by cheating until it comes to a big stake like the last game yesterday, in which case, if Cotter's hand happens to be a strong one, he is likely to do so, and I fancy if he does I shall be able to catch him at it. You had better keep Boldero near you. You can whisper to him what you are watching Flash for, and get him to do so too; as, if I catch Emerson cheating, there is likely to be a row; he can lend a hand if necessary, and, at any rate, his joining in with you will suffice to show his friends that the thing is genuine.”

“All right, Mark. I am interested in the matter now, and am ready for anything.”

Soon after ten Cotter and Emerson again sat down, and, as usual, a lot of spectators gathered round the table. The game resembled the one on the previous evening. Mark placed himself' by the side of Cotter, a stranger stood immediately behind his chair, another member of the club was on the other side, and Sir James Flash stood partly behind him, so that although somewhat in the background he could obtain a view between their heads of Cotter's cards. Mark saw to his satisfaction that Dick and Boldero had secured the exact position that he wished them to take. For the first few games the play was even, and Dick began to think that Mark had been mistaken, for Flash appeared to take little interest in the game, and made no sign how Emerson should proceed.

As soon as the stake rose to a hundred again he distinctly saw Flash close his eyes and play with his mustache; he called Boldero's attention to the fact, and found the latter, who had also been watching, had noticed it. By the time a few games had been played he verified Mark's assertion that these signs were signals that Cotter's hand was a bad one, and in each case Emerson played without giving his opponent the opportunity of discarding and taking in fresh cards. He and Dick nodded quietly to Mark, who had satisfied himself that so far Emerson had not cheated in any other way. As on the previous evening, Cotter, after losing five or six hundred pounds, proposed a final game of five hundred. Mark bent down his head, so that the intentness of his gaze should not be noticed, but from under his eyebrows he watched Emerson's every movement; suddenly he placed a foot on the edge of the chair of the man sitting in front of him, and with a sudden spring leaped upon the table, seized Emerson's hand, and held it up to the full length of his arm.

“Gentlemen,” he shouted, “this fellow is cheating; there is a card in his hand which he has just brought from under the table.”

In a moment there was a dead silence of surprise; then Mark forced the hand open and took Emerson's card, which he held up.

“There, you see, gentleman; it is a king.”

Then a Babel of sounds arose, a dozen hands were laid upon Emerson, who was pulled back from his chair and thrown down on a sofa, while hands were run over his coat, waistcoat, and breeches.

“Here they are!” a man shouted, and held a dozen cards over his head.

The place of concealment had been cleverly chosen; the breeches apparently buttoned closely at the knee, but in reality they were loose enough to enable a finger and thumb to be passed between them and the stocking, and in the lining of the breeches was a pocket in which the cards had been placed, being held there by two pieces of whalebone, that closed the pocket. The searchers, among whom were Dick and Boldero, did not have it all their own way; four or five men rushed upon them, and endeavored to pull them off Emerson. The din of voices was prodigious, but Mark, still standing on the table, stilled it for a moment by shouting:

“The scoundrel has an accomplice, who this evening and yesterday has been signaling the strength of the cards in Mr. Cotter's hands.”

“Who is he?” was shouted over the room.

“It is Sir James Flash,” Mark said. “I denounce him as a cheat and a sharper.”

As pale as death, Flash rushed to the table.

“I don't know who you are, sir,” he said, in a tone of concentrated rage, “but you are a liar, and you shall answer for this in the morning.”

“I will answer to any gentleman that calls me