The betting went on and on, and now there was perfect silence. "Look here, old fellow," burst out Gilderman, at last, "I tell you plainly you're up against an almost certain thing. I don't want to win your money, but I'm not going to give in as long as you keep at it." "You haven't won your money yet, my boy," cried Latimer-Moire. "Don't you worry about me; I'll look after myself," and a general laugh went around the table. One or two more bets were made, and then Gilderman called the game. "I thought you were going to keep it up till the crack of doom," said Latimer-Moire. "It's on your account I call the game," said Gilderman. "Let's see what you've got." Latimer-Moire laid down a card. It was the ace of clubs. He couldn't have four aces, for Gilderman had one. What was it he had? What _if_ he had four kings? Gilderman held his breath. Then his heart gave a bound and he knew that he had won. Latimer-Moire laid down a knave. Three more knaves followed, laid down upon the table one by one. What triumph! What glory! Gilderman held his cards firmly in his hand. His impulse was to pretend that he was beaten. "Well, well!" he said, trying to infuse all the disappointment he could into his voice, "who would have believed you would draw four cards and get four jacks by it? Well, well!" "Let's see what you've got, Gildy," said West. But still Gilderman lingered. The triumph was very, very sweet under the tongue of his soul. "Four jacks!" he repeated. "Well, well, well!" "Oh, show up your hand, Gilderman!" called out a voice from those who stood looking on. Then Gilderman laid down his hand, spreading all the cards face up upon the green baize tablecloth. There was a moment or two of silence and then almost a roar of laughter. Stirling West fetched Gilderman a tremendous clap upon the shoulder. "Gildy's luck forever!" he cried out. Latimer-Moire joined the laugh against himself, but very constrainedly. Gilderman relit his cigar, which had gone out. His hand was chill and trembled in spite of himself. He assumed an air of perfect calmness and indifference, but his bosom was swelling and heaving with triumph. Then he pushed back his chair and arose. "Hold on, Gildy!" cried out Latimer-Moire. "Ain't you going to give me a chance to win my money back?" "Not to-night," said Gilderman; "some other time maybe, my boy, but I can't spoil such luck by playing another hand to-night, old fellow." "Why, confound it--hold on, Gilderman, you can't go away without giving me some show. Just a couple more hands." "Not to-night," said Gilderman, and then he walked away with Stirling West. Pilate had come to the table and was standing looking down at the cards that still lay face up upon the board. Some one was explaining the game to him. "Well," he said, "I've been playing the game for about forty years now and I don't think I ever saw a piece of luck like that. Four queens against four jacks!"