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.