"D'yer want me to play on the square?" I arst. "I want to see 'ow yer can palm the cards," he answered. "I told yer at Windsor yesterday that the job I 'ad to orfer yer wos to pick feathers. A fat pigeon, with feathers of gold. Do yer twig?" "Yes," I sed. "I can palm the pasteboards pritty well myself," he went on, "but I ain't allus to be depended on. Morgan's a muff, 'is fingers are all thumbs. 'Old up yer 'ands. Good--as steady as a rock. Come on; it's your deal." We played, and I 'ardly ever dealt myself a 'and without four aces, or four kings, or a point of sixteen or seventeen from the ace. In less than a hour I won nigh upon a thousand points of 'im. 'E watched me close, but 'e couldn't find out 'ow it wos done, and 'e said with a sour grin that I wos the prince o' sharps, and that 'e wouldn't like to play me for money. Then 'e let me into the secret. There wos a young feller 'im and Morgan wos wery intimate with; 'e 'ad money of 'is own, and 'ad won more at the races, where the three of 'em went together. They'd won a little off 'im at cards, but they 'ad a notion e' wos gettin' suspicious of 'em, though they wosn't sure. Per'aps 'e wos, per'aps 'e wosn't. Their scheme was to introduce a fourth gentleman who'd jine the game. "You're the fourth gentleman," sed Maxwell. "Me!" I cried. "Why, I've only got to open my mouth to show wot I am." They 'ad considered that. I wos a common, ignorant man, with a good 'eart--I wos to be sure to 'ave a good 'eart--as 'd made a fortune on the goldfields. I wos to lose money as well as the pigeon, and that'd make 'im less suspicious. The difference atween me and 'im wos that he paid in good money and I paid in flash notes. "One night," sed Maxwell, "arter yer've lost double as much as 'im yer'll set down with me while 'e's in the room, and in an hour or two yer'll win back double as much as yer've lost. That'll egg 'im on, and 'e'll try to do the same with me or you--it don't matter which--and then we'll clean 'im out. We'll 'ave every shillin' 'e's got. We play for ready money--no infernal cheques--and when we've done with 'im 'e can go to the devil. See?" I did see. It wos a artful plot, and like enough to turn out jest as 'e calkylated. "Wot am I to gain by it?" I arst. "A reg'lar swell rig-out," 'e answered, "fine togs, a gold watch and chain, and a ring, and two pound a week to keep yerself. When the job's finished yer'll get a fourth of the winnin's." I didn't throw away the chance--not me! Fine togs, a gold watch and chain, a ring, and two pound a week--why, it wos a reg'lar slice o' luck, with me starving, and not knowing where to git my next meal from! "I'll jine yer," said I. "'Ere's my 'and on it. Who's the pigeon?" "D'yer remember that friend of our'n as Morgan played billiards with at the Jolly Ploughboy?" arst Maxwell. "Send I may live!" I cried. "If that's 'im we're done! 'E'll know me agin as sure as guns."