d have done, he boldly raised the bet ten shillings.
But that frightened nobody. His game was known; they imagined he had
either two pairs or had failed to fill his flush and was merely
bluffing. When, however, there was another raise of ten shillings from
the opposite side of the table, that was a very different matter; one by
one the others dropped out, leaving these two in. And then it went on:
"Well, I'll just see your ten shillings and raise you another ten."
"And another ten."
"And another ten."
"And another ten."
Of course, universal attention was now concentrated on this duel.
Probably four out of five of the players were of opinion that Lionel
Moore was bluffing; that, at least, was certainly the opinion of his
antagonist, who kept raising and raising without a qualm. At length both
of them had to borrow money to go on with; but still the duel continued,
and still the pile of gold and chips in the middle of the table grew and
increased.
"And another ten."
"And another ten."
Not a word of encouragement or dissuasion was uttered by any one of the
onlookers; they sat silent and amused, wondering which of the two was
about to be smitten under the fifth rib. And at last it was Lionel's
opponent who gave in.
"On this occasion," said he, depositing his half-sovereign, "I will
simply gaze; what have you got?"
"Well, I have got a full hand," Lionel answered, putting down his hand
on the table.
"That is good enough," the other said, stolidly. "Take away the money."
After this dire combat, the game fell flat a little; but interest was
soon revived by a round of Jack-pots; and here again Lionel was in good
luck. Indeed, when the players rose from the table about three o'clock,
he might have come away a winner of close on L40 had not some reckless
person called out something about whiskey poker. Now whiskey poker is
the very stupidest form of gambling that the mind of man has ever
conceived, though at the end of the evening some folk hunger after it as
a kind of final fillip. Each person puts down a certain sum--it may be a
sovereign, it may be five sovereigns; poker hands are dealt out, the
cards being displayed face upwards on the table; there is no drawing;
whoever has the best hand simply annexes the pool. It looks like a game,
but it is not a game; it is merely cutting the cards; but, as the stakes
can be doubled or trebled each round, the jaded appetite for gambling
finds here a potent and
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