“One of the number, whom I will call George, for I can’t give surnames in this story, because it is a true one, was transferred by the railroad company for which he worked to another city, forty odd miles away. Then Harry had an offer of a situation in a large wholesale house in another direction, and sold out his business to accept it. Eli married a rich girl in still another place, and he moved away, leaving only three of us in the same town, yet the Saturday evening games went on almost without interruption. Eli was, naturally enough, oftenest absent, but George and Harry would come in by rail, so that we always had four and almost always five at the table. Of course, as the old friendship was as warm as ever, we enjoyed the reunions even more keenly than we had. After a time the play grew harder. The limit was usually $2, and occasionally as high as $5, while it was lifted off altogether in the consolation pots, so that it was not unusual for one or two of us to be several hundred dollars ahead or behind at the end of the evening. “Things went on this way for perhaps a couple of years before the smash came, and while some of us were not specially harmed by it, there is no doubt that our club did work serious mischief to at least two of the party. We didn’t know about it until afterward, but it was true that Harry had become so infatuated with cards that he had neglected his business and had lost his situation in the wholesale house, and then, instead of trying to get employment elsewhere, had devoted himself entirely to gambling, and had become a full-fledged professional. None of us had happened to learn of his discharge, and as he said nothing to us about it, we never suspected the truth till we learned it very strangely. He continued meeting with us, as usual, and in our company, at least, he never played anything but a straight game.