by G. A. Henty
“You have your usual luck again; I will only play one more game tonight, but we may as well make it worth playing. Shall we say five hundred?”
“At your service,” Emerson replied.
This time the face of the man standing behind Cotter’s chair was immovable, and Mark, placing himself behind a short man and straining his head forward, saw that Cotter scored four. The next time there was still no sign. Emerson showed a king and scored it, and then won every trick and the game.
“That makes nine hundred pounds,” the young man said quietly, writing an IOU for that amount and handing it to Emerson. There was a general movement of the spectators, and two fresh players took the seats vacated by the late antagonists.
“Who was the man standing behind Cotter’s chair?” Mark asked Boldero.
“That is Sir James Flash. He is just going to play, you see; it is sure to be another hot game, and an interesting one.”
“Well, I think I will go,” Mark said; “the heat of the room has given me a bit of a headache. I will see you tomorrow, Dick.”
“Good night, old man,” Chetwynd said; and, shaking hands with Boldero, Mark went downstairs immediately after Cotter. The latter went into the room below, drank off a tumbler of champagne, and then went down, took his hat, and went out. Mark followed him for a short distance, and joined him as soon as he got up into the Strand.
“Mr. Cotter,” he said, “I have not the pleasure of knowing you personally, and I must introduce myself. My name is Mark Thorndyke, and I am the owner of an estate close to Reigate. Would you mind my exchanging a few words with you?”
Cotter looked up, and was about to give a flat refusal, but the expression of Mark’s face was so friendly and pleasant that he changed his mind and said in a hard voice:
“I really do not know what you can have to say to me, Mr. Thorndyke, but of course I can hardly refuse to hear you.”
They walked across the road and turned up a quiet street.
“For certain reasons it is not necessary for me to explain,” Mark said, “I went to that place for the first time tonight, and I watched the play between you and Mr. Emerson.”
“It does not matter, sir; I lost, and I am not going there again.”
“I hope, on the contrary, that you will go there again, Mr. Cotter. If I mistake not, from what I heard, you have lost considerable sums to that man.”
“I imagine, sir, that that is no business of a stranger.”
“In no way personally,” Mark replied, not heeding the angry ring in the voice, “but as an honest man it does concern me. I am absolutely convinced, sir, that that money has not been won from you fairly.”
The young man gave a start.
“Impossible!” he said shortly. “Mr. Emerson is a man of good family and a gentleman.”
“He is a man of good family, I admit, but certainly not a gentleman; his antecedents are notorious.”
“I have never heard a word against him; he is intimate with Sir James Flash and other gentlemen of position.”
“I am not surprised, that you have not heard of it; it was probably to the interest of several persons that you should not do so. Nor do I suppose that you are aware that Sir James Flash was himself expelled from White’s for cheating at cards.”
“Impossible!” Mr. Cotter replied.
“I can assure you of the fact,” Mark said quietly. “Probably you have among your acquaintances some members of White’s. I am sure if you ask them they will confirm the fact. Now, sir, I can assure you that I have no interest in this matter, save to prevent a gentleman from being ruined by blacklegs. May I ask how much you owe to Mr. Emerson and Sir James Flash?”
The young man hesitated. “I believe you, sir,” he said at last. “They hold my IOUs for 29,000 pounds. I need hardly say it is absolute ruin. My intention is to make a clean breast to my father about it tomorrow morning. My father will give me the money, in the first place because he loves me and would save my name from disgrace, and in the second because were I posted as a defaulter it would strike a severe blow at the credit of the bank. So he will give me the money, but he will bid me leave his house forever. That will matter little, for I shall pay the money, and tomorrow night I shall blow out my brains.”
“Well, sir, if you will follow my advice you will neither pay the money nor blow out your brains. I saw enough tonight to feel absolutely certain that you have been cheated. Sir James Flash stood behind you, and was, I am sure, signaling your hand to Emerson. I believe that Emerson played fair otherwise, until the last game, but I am convinced that he then cheated. You had good hands, but he had better; and although I did not see him cheat—for I was on the other side of the table—I am convinced that he did so. Now, sir, I advise you to go in as usual tomorrow evening, and to play, raising your stakes as you did tonight. When the times comes I will expose him. Should I not be able to detect him we must try another night. I am so much convinced that this is the case, and that I shall succeed, that whether you play one night or three I will guarantee that you shall be no loser, but will, on the honor of a gentleman, place in your hands the amount of your losses; so that you will not have to ask your father for a check larger than you would do if you confessed to him tomorrow morning. I only ask in return that you, on your part, will give me your word of honor that you will never touch a card again after you rise from the table.”
“I cannot accept so generous an offer from a stranger,” Cotter said in a low tone.
“I do not think that it is generous,” Mark replied quietly, “because I am perfectly convinced that I shall not have to pay at all. Have you any other IOUs out?”
“I have given them for about 5000 pounds, but that is not in addition to the 29,000 pounds. Emerson told me that as he knew that I should have difficulty in paying them at the present moment, he had taken them up, and held them with his own.”
“Will you give me the names of the persons to whom you gave them in the first place?”
“Certainly;” and he mentioned three names, all of which stood with a black cross against them on Mark’s list.
“Thank you. Then you will go tomorrow night again?”
“Yes; and I swear to you that I will never touch a card afterwards.”
“I don’t think that you need fear,” Mark said. “I have not been long in London, but I happen to have been shown a good many of the tricks that these blacklegs play on greenhorns, which will account for my having noticed what has never been observed by the honest portion of the men who frequent the place. Now I will say good night, sir. I shall be behind your chair or his tomorrow night.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Cotter said hesitatingly.
“There is no occasion to say anything; it is the duty of every honest man to interfere if he sees another honest man being robbed, and that is my sole object in this matter. Good night;” and turning round, he walked rapidly away.
CHAPTER XIII
The next morning, before going round to Gibbons’, Mark saw his chief and told him of what had taken place on the previous evening.
“I certainly did not think that you would succeed so soon; you believe that you will be able fairly to expose these fellows?”
“I have no doubt whatever that I shall be able to expose one of them; and I have equally no doubt that if the others are arrested, either false cards or pockets for cards will be found upon them. What do you wish me to do, sir? I can, of course, expose any fellow I catch at it, but can do nothing about the others.”
“I must have more than one captured,” the chief said. “At even the most irreproachable club there may be one blackleg, but if it is clear that this place is the haunt of blacklegs we can break it. There are half a dozen Acts that apply; there is the 11th Act of Henry VIII, statute 33, cap. 9, which prohibits the keeping of any common house for dice, cards, or any unlawful game. That has never been repealed, except that gaming houses were licensed in 1620. What is more to the point is that five Acts of George II, the 9th, 1
2th, 13th, 18th, and 30th, impose penalties upon the keepers of public houses for permitting gambling, and lay heavy penalties upon hazard, roulette, and other gambling games, on the keepers of gambling houses and those who play there. Having received complaints of several young men being rooked in the place, we can, if we prove that some of its frequenters are blacklegs, shut the place up altogether. We should do it quietly, and without fuss, if possible; but if we shut it up several others of the same sort will be certain to close their doors. But mind, there will probably be a desperate row, and you had better take pistols with you. I will have four men close at hand from ten o’clock till the time the place closes, and if they hear a scrimmage, or you fire a pistol out of the window, they will rush in and seize all engaged in the row, and march them to the lock up. Of course you will have to be included.”
Mark then went to Chetwynd.
“Well, what did you think of it last night?”
“Well, I own that it went against my grain to see that young fellow being victimized by a sharper.”
“My dear Mark, you must not use such language as that. I fancy from what I have heard that the Honorable John is not altogether an estimable character, but to call him a sharper is going too far altogether.”
“I don’t think that it is, for from what I saw last night I am pretty well convinced that he did not play fair. I mean to go again tonight.”
“But why on earth should you mix yourself up in such an affair, Mark? It is no business of yours; you are not an habitue of the place. Above all, it is extremely unlikely that you are right. There were some shady people there, no doubt, but there were also a good many gentlemen present, and as you know nothing of cards, as far as I know, it is the most unlikely thing in the world that you should find out that Emerson cheated when no one else noticed it.”
“It is my business; it is the duty of every honest man to see that a poor lad like that should not be eaten up by a shark like Emerson. I don’t care if there is a shindy over it. I shall not interfere unless I can prove that the man is cheating, in which case no man of honor would go out with him. I shall be glad if you and Boldero would go with me again this evening. I am not known there, and you are to a good many men, and Boldero to many more. I only want that, if I get into a row, you should testify to the fact that I am a gentleman, and ordinarily sane. If there is a row you will have an opportunity of seeing how much I have benefited by my lessons.”
“Yes, I heard you were making tremendous progress. Jack Needham told me a month ago that you had knocked him out of time, and I went into Gibbons’ yesterday morning with a man who wanted to buy a dog, and he told me that he considered that it was a great misfortune that you were an amateur, for that you only required another six months’ practice, and he would then be ready to back you for a hundred pounds against any man in the ring. But about this affair, Mark. Are you really in earnest?”
“I am, Dick, thoroughly in earnest; so would you be if you had spoken to Cotter last night, as I did. I tell you that if I had not given him a little hope that the thing might come out right, he would have blown out his brains today.”
“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.”
