The Face and the Mask by Robert Barr (books under 200 pages .txt) 📗

“You can convince me just as easily as you can Mellish. What’s the use of dragging him in?”

“I could convince you in a minute, but you might still refuse to play. Now I’m bound to play this game and I can’t take any risks. If my word and Mellish’s isn’t good enough for you, why, say so.”

“All right,” cried Bert. “If you can convince Mellish that you will pay if you lose I’ll play you.”

Rowell and Mellish retired into an inner room and after a few minutes reappeared again.

Mellish’s face was red when he went in. He was now a trifle pale.

“I don’t like this, Bert,” Mellish said, “and I think this game had better stop right here.”

“Then you are not convinced that I am sure of my money?”

“Yes, I am, but——”

“That’s enough for me. Get out your new pack.”

“You’ve given your word, Mellish,” said Pony, seeing the keeper of the house was about to speak. “Don’t say any more.”

“For such a sum two out of three is too sudden. Make it five out of nine,” put in Bert.

“I’m willing.”

The new pack of cards was brought and the wrappings torn off.

“You shuffle first; I’ll cut,” said Rowell. His lips seemed parched and he moistened them now and then, which was unusual for so cool a gambler. Mellish fidgeted around with lowered brow. Bert shuffled the cards as nonchalantly as if he had merely a $5 bill on the result. When each had taken a card, Bert held an ace and Pony a king. Pony shuffled and the turn up was a spot in Pony’s hand and queen in that of his opponent. Bert smiled and drops began to show on Pony’s forehead in spite of his efforts at self-control. No word was spoken by either players or onlookers. After the next deal Pony again lost. His imperturbability seemed to be leaving him. He swept the cards from the table with an oath. “Bring another pack,” he said hoarsely.

Bert smiled at him across the table. He thought, of course, that they were playing for even stakes.

Mellish couldn’t stand it any longer. He retired to one of the inner rooms. The first deal with the new pack turned in Pony’s favor and he seemed to feel that his luck had changed, but the next deal went against him and also the one following.

“It’s your shuffle,” said Rowell, pushing the cards towards his opponent. Bert did not touch the cards, but smiled across at the gambler.

“What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you shuffle?”

“I don’t have to,” said Bert, quietly, “I’ve won five.”

Rowell drew his hand across his perspiring brow and stared at the man across the table. Then he seemed to pull himself together.

“So you have,” he said, “I hadn’t noticed it. Excuse me. I guess I’ll go now.”

“Sit where you are and let us have a game for something more modest. I don’t care about these splurges myself and I don’t suppose you do— now.”

“Thanks, no. I told you this was my last game. As to the splurge, if I had the money I would willingly try it again. So long.”

When Mellish came in and saw that the game was over he asked where Pony was.

“He knew when he had enough, I guess,” answered Bert. “He’s gone home.”

“Come in here, Bert. I want to speak with you,” said Mellish.

When they were alone Mellish turned to him.

“I suppose Pony didn’t tell you where the money is to come from?”

“No, he told you. That was enough for me.”

“Well, there’s no reason why you should not know now. I promised silence till the game was finished. He’s insured his life for $100,000 and is going to commit suicide so that you may be paid.”

“My God!” cried Bert, aghast. “Why did you let the game go on?”

“I tried to stop it, but I had given my word and you——”

“Well, don’t let us stand chattering here. He’s at the Metropolitan, isn’t he? Then come along. Hurry into your coat.”

Mellish knew the number of Rowell’s room and so no time was lost in the hotel office with inquiries. He tried the door, but, as he expected, it was locked.

“Who’s that?” cried a voice within.

“It’s me—Mellish. I want to speak with you a moment.”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“Bert wants to say something. It’s important. Let us in.”

“I won’t let you in. Go away and don’t make a fuss. It will do no good. You can get in ten minutes from now.”

“Look here, Pony, you open that door at once, or I’ll kick it in. You hear me? I want to see you a minute, and then you can do what you like,” said Bert, in a voice that meant business.

After a moment’s hesitation Rowell opened the door and the two stepped in. Half of the carpet had been taken up and the bare floor was covered with old newspapers. A revolver lay on the table, also writing materials and a half-finished letter. Pony was in his shirt sleeves and he did not seem pleased at the interruption.

“What do you want?” he asked shortly.

“Look here, Pony,” said Bert, “I have confessed to Mellish and I’ve come to confess to you. I want you to be easy with me and hush the thing up. I cheated. I stocked the cards.”

“You’re a liar,” said Rowell, looking him straight in the eye.

“Don’t say that again,” cried Ragstock, with his fingers twitching. “There’s mighty few men I would take that from.”

“You stocked the cards on me? I’d like to see the man that could do it!”

“You were excited and didn’t notice it.”

“You’re not only a liar, but you’re an awkward liar. I have lost the money and I’ll pay it. It would have been ready for you now, only I had a letter to write. Mellish has told you about the insurance policy and my will attached to it. Here they are. They’re yours. I’m no kicker. I know when a game’s played fair.”

Bert took the policy and evidently intended to tear it in pieces, while Mellish, with a wink at him, edged around to get at the revolver. Ragstock’s eye caught the name in big letters at the head of the policy,