“Rotten shift, life is,” now murmured the Honourable George quite as if he had forgotten me. “If I’d have but put through that Monte Carlo affair I dare say I’d have chucked the whole business--gone to South Africa, perhaps, and set up a mine or a plantation. Shouldn’t have come back. Just cut off, and good-bye to this mess. But no capital. Can’t do things without capital. Where these American Johnnies have the pull of us. Do anything. Nearly do what they jolly well like to. No sense to money. Stuff that runs blind. Look at the silly beggars that have it----” On he went quite alarmingly with his tirade. Almost as violent he was as an ugly-headed chap I once heard ranting when I went with my brother-in-law to a meeting of the North Brixton Radical Club. Quite like an anarchist he was. Presently he quieted. After a long pull at his pipe he regarded me with an entire change of manner. Well I knew something was coming; coming swift as a rocketing woodcock. Word for word I put down our incredible speeches: “You are going out to America, Ruggles.” “Yes, sir; North or South, sir?” “North, I fancy; somewhere on the West coast--Ohio, Omaha, one of those Indian places.” “Perhaps Indiana or the Yellowstone Valley, sir.” “The chap’s a sort of millionaire.” “The chap, sir?” “Eyebrow chap. Money no end--mines, lumber, domestic animals, that sort of thing.” “Beg pardon, sir! I’m to go----” “Chap’s wife taken a great fancy to you. Would have you to do for the funny, sad beggar. So he’s won you. Won you in a game of drawing poker. Another man would have done as well, but the creature was keen for you. Great strength of character. Determined sort. Hope you won’t think I didn’t play soundly, but it’s not a forthright game. Think they’re bluffing when they aren’t. When they are you mayn’t think it. So far as hiding one’s intentions, it’s a most rottenly immoral game. Low, animal cunning--that sort of thing.” “Do I understand I was the stake, sir?” I controlled myself to say. The heavens seemed bursting about my head. “Ultimately lost you were by the very trifling margin of superiority that a hand known as a club flush bears over another hand consisting of three of the eights--not quite all of them, you understand, only three, and two other quite meaningless cards.” I could but stammer piteously, I fear. I heard myself make a wretched failure of words that crowded to my lips. “But it’s quite simple, I tell you. I dare say I could show it you in a moment if you’ve cards in your box.” “Thank you, sir, I’ll not trouble you. I’m certain it was simple. But would you mind telling me what exactly the game was played for?”