Colonel Thorndyke's SecretHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
Colonel Thorndyke's Secret
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Detective and mystery stories; Hindus -- England -- Fiction; India -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Mark was greatly interested in the tricks the man showed him. At first
it seemed to him almost magical, after he himself had shuffled the cards
and cut them the dealer invariably turned up a king. Even admitting he
might have various places of concealment, pockets in the lining of the
sleeve, in the inside of the coat, and in various other parts of
the dress, in which cards could be concealed and drawn out by silken
threads, it did not seem possible that this could be done with such
quickness as to be unobserved. It was only when his teacher showed him,
at first in the slowest manner, and then gradually increasing his speed,
that he perceived that what seemed impossible was easy enough when the
necessary practice and skill had been attained. The man was indeed an
adept at a great variety of tricks by which the unsuspecting could be
taken in.
“I ought to know,” he said. “I was for three years in a gambling house
in Paris, where every other man was a sharper. I have been in places of
the same sort in Belgium, Holland, Germany, and Italy. At first I was
only a boy waiter, and as until evening there was nothing doing at these
places, men would sometimes amuse themselves by teaching me tricks, easy
ones to begin with, and when they saw I was sharp and quick handed they
went on. After a time I began to work as a confederate, and at last on
my own account; but I got disgusted with it at last. A young fellow shot
himself at the table of the gambling house at Rome, and at another place
I was nearly killed by a man who had lost heavily--do you see, it has
left a broad scar right across my forehead?--so I gave it up.
“I was in the French police for a time, and used to watch some of the
lower hells. I was nearly killed there once or twice, and at last I
came back here. My French chief gave me a letter to the chief, and I was
taken on at once, for, talking as I do half a dozen languages, and being
acquainted with most of the swell mobsmen of Paris, I was just the man
who happened to be wanted here at the time. Since I came over I have
done a good deal in the way of breaking up hells where sailors and
others are plundered. But, you see, I cannot be used for the higher
class of work; my nose has been broken, and I have half a dozen scars on
my face. I hate the sight of cards now. I have seen so much of the ruin
they do, and have, I am sorry to say, taken a hand so often in doing it,
that save showing someone who would use the knowledge in the right way
how the tricks are done, nothing would persuade me to touch them again.
However, as a protection, the knowledge is as useful as it is dangerous
when used the other way. It would take you ten years to learn to do
these tricks yourself so well as to defy detection; but in a very short
time, by learning where to keep your eyes, you would get to detect
almost any of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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