I instinctively knew that a proposal for further play was going to be made me on the plea of giving me a chance of recouping my losses, and for the purposes of the desperate plan I had decided upon this was exactly what I wanted. “Now, my boy,” began the leader, in his friendly way, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do to give you a chance. I’ll lay you ten pounds to two pounds on the next round, and only you and I will play. You shall watch me as closely as you like, and no doubt you will win.” “I will agree,” I assented, “on condition that the door is unlocked and the key brought inside and placed on the table.” It was a bold move on my part, and I trembled for the answer, because upon this one point depended to a very great extent the success of the desperate plan I had thought of to escape, and at the same time regain my employer’s money. Evidently sure of their quarry, and all unsuspicious as to my intentions, the trio at once agreed to the proposal. The landlord was called--and bullied--the door unlocked, and the key placed on the table by my side. Then the cards were laid out afresh, and I made another effort to “spot” the “lady,” although I was morally certain that I should fail. I did, and handed over two more pound notes, which the dealer placed with the five others, lying loosely by his side. In my jacket pocket I had a large sailors’ clasp knife, with a murderous-looking blade nearly five inches long, and while my _vis-à-vis_ was picking up the cards preparatory to another deal, I having consented to play for the same stakes again, I surreptitiously got this weapon out and opened it under cover of the table. The seven Bank of Scotland pound notes lay carelessly bunched together opposite me on the side of the table and within easy reach, whilst the door of the “snug” was but a couple of feet away from where I sat, I being nearest to it. The next moment I saw my opportunity and seized it. As the dealer manipulated the cards, he, as he had done all through, spread out his hand over a card for a couple of seconds. I clutched the open knife firmly in my right hand, and before any one of those present could have the slightest idea of my intentions I bounded to my feet, raised my arm in the air, and the next instant had pinned the sharper’s hand to the table with the long, keen blade! With his scream of agony ringing in my ears, and the sight of the knife quivering in his hand photographed, as it were, upon my vision, I grabbed at the loose notes which lay in front of me, bunched them up into the palm of my hand, and, leaving the knife where I had driven it, flung open the door of the “snug” and bounded through the saloon and out into the busy street. [Illustration: “THE NEXT INSTANT I HAD PINNED THE SHARPER’S HAND TO THE TABLE WITH THE LONG, KEEN BLADE!”]