For a moment he took my breath away. That he could have drawn two cards for a straight flush had not entered into my philosophy. My next feeling was that the thing looked ugly. For a man with a straight flush in his hand to propose to increase the stakes was--well, not the thing. While words were coming near my lips, Pendarvon leaned towards him. "Where is your straight flush? Show it us?" Then, with a laugh, "That's not a straight flush." Archie stared at his cards. "What do you mean?" Then, with a shout, "I'm damned if it is!" As he recognised the fact, he seemed to me to turn quite green, and he swore. In his haste, giving only a single glance at his cards, he had let himself in. It was all but a straight flush--a case of the miss which is as good as a mile. His hand was four, five, seven, eight, and nine of hearts. It was a flush, but not a straight flush--he had overlooked the absence of the six. The curious part of the thing was that he should have drawn to such a hand. Pendarvon faced his cards. "I fancy, Archie, that I am better than you." He was. He had a full. Three aces and a pair of kings. No wonder he had been willing to back his luck. I don't know what his feelings were when he found that I could show still more. "Fours. I think that takes it." It did. As I scooped the plunder, Silvester rose. "Show four whenever you like--eh, Townsend?" His tone was disagreeable, and meant to be. "I wish I could." "I should say that your wish was gratified. It occurs to me that this is distinctly a game at which the soberest wins." We looked at him. He looked back at us. He was evidently in a state of mind in which he was disposed to pick a quarrel with us, either separately or altogether. The thing to do was not to gratify his whim. He treated Archie to a peculiarly impertinent stare. "That was an odd mistake of yours. I'm drunk, but I'm not drunk enough for that, and I never could be." He gave Pendarvon a turn--"You didn't choose your cards badly. But it's only a question of courage. Take my tip, next time you make it fours." He lurched away from the table. "I'm off. You're welcome to what you've got--cut it up between you." He staggered from the room. Archie rose, intending, as host, to see him off the premises. Pendarvon caught him by the arm. "Let the beggar see himself out. If we have luck he may break his neck as he goes downstairs. He's made a bid for it." It seemed that he had. We could hear him stumble down two or three steps at a time. We listened. There was the sound of another stumble. Pendarvon laughed. "Bid number two." Directly afterwards we heard him fidgeting with the handle of the front door. Archie grew restless. "He'll raise the dead if he goes on like that much longer. Let me go down, and let him out." We heard the door open, and immediately afterwards shut with a bang.