“Have a drink, old man, to wake you up?” his neighbor said to him, about half-past two.

“No, thanks,” he answered, listlessly looking on at the cards.

“A cigarette, then?”

“No, thanks.  I think I must give up smoking altogether—­my throat isn’t quite right.”

But an extraordinary stroke of good-luck aroused him.  On looking at his cards he found he had been dealt four aces and a ten.  Surely the hour of his revenge had sounded at last; for with such a hand he could easily frighten the others out, while he knew that Percival Miles would remain in, if he had anything at all.  Accordingly, when it came to his turn he raised before the draw—­raised the pool a sovereign; and this caused two of the players to retire, leaving himself, Miles, and the dealer.  He took one card—­to his astonishment and concealed delight he found it was the joker.  Five aces!—­surely on such a hand he might bet his furniture, his clothes, his last cigarette.  Five aces!—­it was nothing but brute force; all that was wanted was to pile on the money; he could well afford to be reckless this time.  He saw that Miles also asked for one card, and that the dealer helped himself to two; but what the took was a matter of supreme indifference to him.

It was Percival Miles’s turn to bet.

“I will bet a sovereign,” said he.

“And I’ll stay in with you,” remarked the dealer, depositing the golden coin.

“One better,” said Lionel.

“And one better,” said Miles.

Here the dealer retired, so that these two were left in as before—­well, not as before, for Lionel had five aces in his hand!  And now they made no pretence of keeping to the limit that had been imposed; their bets were registered on the bit of paper which each had by him; and pertinaciously did these two gladiators hack and slash at each other.  Lionel was quite reckless.  His enemy had taken one card.  Very well.  Supposing he had “filled” a flush or a straight, so much the better.  Supposing he also had got fours—­that, too, was excellent well; for he could have nothing higher than four kings.  Strictly speaking, there was only one hand that could beat Lionel’s—­a straight flush; but then a straight flush is an uncommonly rare thing; and, besides, the appearance of five aces in one’s hand seems to convey a sense of quite unlimited power.  That five aces are no better than four aces does not strike the possessor of them; he regards the goodly show—­and strives to conceal his elation.

But even the onlookers, intensely interested as they were in this fell combat, began to grow afraid when they guessed at the sum that was now in the imaginary pool.  The story might get about the club; the committee might shut up the card-room; there might be a talk of expulsion.  As for Lionel, he kept saying to himself, “Well, this is a safe thing; and I could go on all night; but I won’t take a brutal advantage.  As soon as I think I have got back about what this young fellow has already taken from me since he came into the club, I will stop.  I don’t want to break him.  I don’t want to send him to the money-lenders.”