"Getting on, Thompson ?" Steve, still laughing, shook his head.

"I'll be stakeholder," he said in a choking voice.
The black-eyed man shot a malevolent glance at him as they put up the money in his hands.

For he had a supernumerary jack of hearts, neatly palmed, to turn up if Steve "bit." This quickly disappeared, however, or rather did not appear at all.

With an expectant smile the artist turned up from the top of the deck the five of clubs.

He looked at it in stupefied amazement, which, if not real, was well invented.
Mitchell roared and pounded the suitcase.