ealer, depositing the golden
coin.

"One better," said Lionel.

"And one better," said Miles.

Here the dealer retired, so that these two were left in as before--well,
not as before, for Lionel had five aces in his hand! And now they made
no pretence of keeping to the limit that had been imposed; their bets
were registered on the bit of paper which each had by him; and
pertinaciously did these two gladiators hack and slash at each other.
Lionel was quite reckless. His enemy had taken one card. Very well.
Supposing he had "filled" a flush or a straight, so much the better.
Supposing he also had got fours--that, too, was excellent well; for he
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