"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?"
"Knew you'd not understand at once. My word, it was not too bally
simple. If I won I'd a hundred pounds. If I lost I'd to give you up to
them but still to receive a hundred pounds. I suspect the Johnny's
conscience pricked him. Thought you were worth a hundred pounds, and
guessed all the time he could do me awfully in the eye with his poker.
Quite set they were on having you. Eyebrow chap seemed to think it a
jolly good wheeze. She didn't, though. Quite off her head at having
you for that glum one who does himself so badly."
Dazed I was, to be sure, scarce comprehending the calamity that had
befallen us.
"Am I to understand, sir, that I am now in the service of the
Americans?"
"Stupid! Of course, of course! Explained clearly, haven't I, about the
club flush and the three eights.
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