“I called you,” said the gambler, “show your hand.” “Yes; but when I called you, you asked me what I had, and I told you. What have _you_ got?” “I am not afraid to show my hand,” said the gambler, and he put down on the table four aces. “There’s the king of hearts,” said Storm, putting it down on the table. “There’s the queen of hearts, there’s the knave of hearts, there’s the ten of hearts. Now,” he cried, waving his other card in the air, “can you tell me what this card is?” “I am sure I don’t know,” answered the gambler, quietly, “probably the nine of hearts.” “It _is_ the nine of hearts,” shouted Storm, placing it down beside the others. The gambler quietly picked up the cards, and handed them to the man who was to deal. Storm’s hands were trembling with excitement as he pulled the pile of bank notes and gold towards him. He counted out what I had given him, and passed it to me under the table. The rest he thrust into his pocket. “Come,” I said, “it is time to go. Don’t strain your luck.” “Another five pounds,” he whispered; “sit where you are.” “Nonsense,” I said, “another five pounds will certainly mean that you lose, everything you have won. Come away, I want to talk with you.” “Another five pounds, I have sworn it.” “Very well, I shall not stay here any longer.” “No, no,” he cried eagerly; “sit where you are, sit where you are.” There was a grim thin smile on the lips of the gambler as this whispered conversation took place. When the next hand was dealt around and Storm looked at his cards, he gave another gasp of delight. I thought that a poker player should not be so free with his emotions; but of course I said nothing. When it came his time to bet, he planked down a five-pound note on the table. The other two, as was usual, put down their cards. They were evidently very timorous players. The gambler hesitated for a second, then he put a ten-pound note on Storm’s five-pounds. Storm at once saw him, and raised him ten. The gambler hesitated longer this time, but at last he said, “I shall not bet. What have you got?” “Do you call me?” asked Storm. “Put up your money if you do.” “No, I do not call you.” Storm laughed and threw his cards face up on the table. “I have nothing,” he said, “I have bluffed you for once.” “It is very often done,” answered the gambler, quietly, as Storm drew in his pile of money, stuffing it again in his coat pocket. “Your deal, Storm.” “No, sir,” said the young man, rising up; “I’ll never touch a poker hand again. I have got my own money back and five or ten pounds over. I know when I’ve had enough.” Although it was Storm’s deal, the gambler had the pack of cards in his hand idly shuffling them to and fro. “I have often heard,” he said slowly without raising his eyes, “that when one fool sits down beside another fool at poker, the player has the luck of two fools—but I never believed it before.” The Man Who was Not on the Passenger List.