CHAPTER III.

THE GAMBLER'S PENANCE

As they went toward the card room, the organizer of the banquet said: “You must not be surprised if I have to employ force to get him out, for he must go whether he wants to or not. It would never do in the world to allow the morals of our place to become contaminated by the presence of such creatures, so come on.”

As they neared the card room they heard female voices raised in entreaty, saying: “Oh, Mr. Edwards, please do show us. We are at the mercy of all the society people and they put on such airs. We do not know how to play poker, and they cannot see what kind of training we have had. If you do refuse we shall never be happy, for we shall be forever shut out of good society.”

Much more and in many different voices was said, until it seemed that the person to whom the appeals were made consented. Then there was a chorus of thanks. By this time the leader of the smart set and the newspaper man were in the room.

They stood and gazed at the scene before them. There were tables all around the room. Players were seated at nearly all of them. The young man noted that some played whist, others preferred euchre, while still others played seven-up and beggar-my-neighbor and other old and innocuous games, but many were playing poker. The cards were all right but there was a total absence of chips or money. All the betting was done with pebbles. The players were totally oblivious to everything going on around them.

The professional gambler was pointed out to the director of the ceremonies and he stood a little while looking at the man he was to put out. He was by all odds the biggest ghost there. His shoulders were broad and his arms long and massive. The leader stood thinking whether it would be quite safe to argue with him. He had always been a man of peace, and the only battles he had ever fought were those pertaining to matters of dispute in the social ranks above ground. He had been peacemaker there so often that he sometimes wondered that they had not killed each other off like Kilkenny cats. So he watched the gambler, and waited until he should do something which he might claim to be against the rules governing the conduct of affairs in this card room.

One or two of the oldest whist players came to him and endeavored to convince him that it was his duty to interfere before the professional gambler had contaminated the minds of the lady ghosts by his presence. These ladies were preparing to learn to play poker. But each time that he looked at the giant proportions of this ghost the leader felt that it was not his business to interfere. If they wanted to learn what did it matter to him? Finally, at the urgent requests of the others, he plucked up courage and strode over to Edwards with all the superhuman dignity of a hopelessly small man, and with an air that admitted of no discussion, said:

“Sir; I hear that you are a professional gambler. If that is so I must request you to retire from the presence of these ladies. This is a very exclusive part of the underground world—”

“Are you St. Peter?” asked Edwards, quietly.

“No: but I have been requested to see that nobody of questionable antecedents is admitted, as it is intended for the best class—I hope you will go quietly. There are ladies present and I do not wish to proceed to extreme measures. Otherwise I shall be obliged to put you out.”

“Did you say that to me?” asked Edwards with ominous politeness. “For, if you did, I have this to reply. I am not in the habit of taking orders from anyone. But, if you still desire to try, I advise your friends to bring a basket. For, if you lay a hand on me there won't be a bone of you left big enough to make a toothpick of. Now, run along, little man and don't bother me. I am at the service of these ladies, and don’t you forget it.”

Saying this the big ghost of Edwards turned his back on the pompous little man, giving his undivided attention to the ladies who had asked him to teach them the noble and elevating game of poker. After one more comprehensive glance at the massive proportions of the man before him, the leader concluded that discretion was the better part of valor. He scarcely saw how he could back down from the position he had taken without a loss of dignity. His distress was so evident that the newspaper man felt really sorry for him. He knew that this man held a high position in the esteem of the ghosts and wished to help him. So he came to his rescue in this way:

“I do not think he will do much harm, and if a sort of private watch is kept on him, why, then, if he does anything offensive to good taste it will be time to act. If you are willing I will stay here and if anything is wrong I can report to you. What do you think?”

“So well of it that I will at once retire to the smoking room at the right of the entrance, and there you will find me if anything objectionable occurs.”

Saying this the little great man went out and the reporter prepared himself to be amused beyond anything he had ever felt. He even expected to get more fun out of the affair than Edwards himself.

There were six lady ghosts, and they crowded around the big gambler endeavoring to console him for the unpleasantness that had just occurred. All, with one accord agreed that the society leader would do well to mind his own business. He was well enough to plan the banquet and get up the decorations but when he undertook to spy on them and dictate what they should do, they wanted him to understand that they were not of the wonderful 400 and didn’t want to be. They thought themselves too good, so there!

The six ladies then took seats at one of the tables.

One might think that these six ghosts might look exactly alike, but not so, for every one had as distinct a personality as though she had not been dead so long that nothing remained but bones. But there was a sort of emanation of some indefinable kind; an atmosphere of some occult property that took the place of flesh and body. In some curious and inexplicable way this gave to each skeleton a separate individuality. Even the lay mind could understand this, and the newspaper man could tell the ghosts apart perfectly well.

One of these women was very small, and was clearly as pugnacious as a sparrow and as tenacious as one. The next one was a woman of the stately kind. The third was quite an old one, judging by her teeth, and sitting beside her was one with such beautiful teeth as he had never seen but once, and the sight quite unnerved him, too, for they belonged to the young girl whose wedding had brought him to this strange carnival of ghosts. The sight gave him an agonizing wrench of pain. He wondered how long it would be before she would be like these women, with nothing left of her sweet young beauty but her white and even teeth.

This ghost had a way of holding her head to one side and raising her hollow eyeless sockets in what was once a most effective attitude, but it was now but the travesty of itself. The sight filled the young man with deep pity. This ghost was a widow.

“Did you say that to me?”

The fourth was as tall and angular as any of the two men ghosts without one redeeming trait. She was an old maid. It was easy for the young man to know all these things for some new and occult quality in his nature hitherto unknown gave him a new insight into the personality of the ghost and he saw them as they must have been in life, yet saw them only as ghosts. He sensed these things without knowing how he did so.

The old maid ghost told the widow that she had heard that Edwards had been a sad dog in his day, and that gave him added interest, for it must be admitted that women do admire sad dogs.

When they were all seated they waited for their teacher to make a beginning. He squared his shoulders, and tried to put his hands in his pockets when he was suddenly brought to a realizing sense that there are no pockets in shrouds. He also began to realize that he had undertaken a greater task than he had thought. He had no money nor chips, and so could not play poker. He looked the picture of misery.

He was thinking how he could get out of the place decently.

It was the practical old maid who suggested that they should play with beans. She had heard that that was sometimes done. Edwards stifled a groan.

When all the other women said that it was impossible to find beans, and that it would be better to use pebbles as the others were doing, the old maid told them to wait a moment, and almost before they missed her she was back with at least a peck of beans of different colors tied up in her shroud.

She tripped along in such a funny, affected manner that the newspaper man could not help smiling, though of course he hid that fact. For Edwards was a much larger man than he was, and he thought that a blow from one of those bony fists would make a ghost of him too. And he was not hankering after immortality just then.

The old maid emptied out all the beans, and they sorted the different colors into different piles. Edwards counted them and divided them all around into equal parts. Then he produced the cards and said: “We must have something to represent money and these beans—”

“Oh!” cried the sparrow ghost, “we must not bet. It is wicked to bet.”

“Then you cannot learn to play poker,” replied he.

“I don’t see why,” responded she pugnaciously.

“All right. Have it your own way. You will have to give up your poker lesson right now, for the betting is all there is to it.”

There was a whole chorus of exclamation from the rest. The old maid ghost said that after so much trouble had been taken, and as none of the rest had any scruples against betting beans, she did not see why the rest could not go on, and Mrs. Fogg stay out. The big gambler waited with what patience he could muster, for the game had little zest to him without money.

He put the pack of cards back somewhere in his shroud and waited. On seeing this the other five took an anxious cry that he must not desert them. Quiet was restored on the promise that the betting with the beans should be regarded solely in a Pickwickian sense. So the beans were distributed. The black beans stood for fifty cents each, and the white ones for a dollar each, and the big red ones for five dollars.

“That is high enough for beginners, isn’t it?” asked the old lady benignly.

The big professional gambler took a severe fit of coughing and shook so hard that the newspaper man thought surely he would fall in pieces, but he rallied and said:

“Now, ladies, I deal you each five cards. Your object will be to see how many of a kind you can get together.”

“What kind?” asked the sparrow woman.

“Why, two aces, or three deuces, trays, fours or face cards all the way up. Aces are the highest.”

“Which one?” asked the little woman.

“Higher than a ten?” asked the widow.

“I said the ace is the highest card in the pack,” replied he.

“That is not answering the question, sir. I wish to know which one.”

“Oh, any one,” answered the man wearily.

“But I can't see how four aces can all be the highest,” said the sparrow.

“I mean that they all count higher than any other card. After ace comes king, then queen, then jack, then ten and so on. Four aces make the best hand except a royal flush or straight. Two of a kind are good, three better, four best. I will explain the rest as we go along. Now I deal you each five cards—”

“You said that before,” remarked one of the ghosts.

“So I did. Now you must decide upon your limit.”

“I have five cards. I thought you said that was the limit,” said she of the pretty teeth.

“I mean, how much do you want to bet? As you are beginners, suppose you make it a half a dollar.”

“You said there was to be no betting,” cried Mrs. Fogg, at the same time trying to match a pair of a jack of diamonds and a four of spades that she had spread out on the table before her.

“Oh, you each are to put a black bean on the middle of the table, and, madam, please never show your cards until you are called.”

“Sir!”

“Oh,” groaned the gambler, “what I mean is this. I will explain as we go along when someone calls for you to show down, but it is or should be your object to hide your hands—cards—as completely as possible from all the others.”

“I don’t see how I am going to find out if I don’t look,” grumbled the little woman.

The newspaper man was enjoying this mightily, and from time to time he cast pitying eyes at the unfortunate big ghost, for once he had had the pleasure of teaching three women to play the noble game, and he fully sympathized with the suffering man.

The ghostly gambler gathered himself together and said:

“Now, ladies; there are a number of complications in this game, and as they arise I will explain them.”

“I would prefer to know them all at once,” said she of the pretty teeth. “I am sure that I could remember.”

The poor man began to look as if he thought that this was a job put up against his peace of mind, but he courageously continued:

“As I said, your object is to get as many pairs or cards of the same number of spots into your hand as possible, and if you have two pairs, or only one pair, you can draw three cards from the pack putting as many of those as you hold in your hand back—discard, they call that—and try and make up a full hand that way. Now each of you has five cards. Please look at them, and, well, as this is the first, perhaps it would be better for you to show them, and I will advise you what to do.”

“You just told me not to show mine.”

“Now, wouldn't that come and fetch you?” muttered the wretch under his breath.

“What’s trump?” asked she whose teeth were so pretty.

The old maid scored a hit by putting her cards, hand and all, into the big paw of the gambler, and letting it lie there innocently.

“I'll scrape the pot,” cried the old lady ghost, at the same time triumphantly showing two deuces and three trays.

“I—I—beg your pardon?” said the bewildered man.

“Isn’t that what you say when you get better than anyone?” she asked defiantly.

“Oh, yes,” murmured he faintly; “but we must wait and see what the others have got.”

One lady had two queens, two jacks and a tray, and another had four fives and an ace. Mrs. Fogg had a four, a seven, a jack and two nines. She was highly indignant when she discovered that her hand did not count beside the others.

“If there is going to be such favoritism shown, I don’t care to play,” she said, pouting.

The woman with the pretty teeth had a pair of aces and three kings, and the old maid had a royal flush. It was a task beside which that of Hercules sunk into ignoble insignificance to explain just why a royal flush was higher than the pairs on which he had just laid such stress, while he had not even mentioned the royal flush at all. He made up his mind that he would not mention a straight even if one turned up every hand. The miserable man was nearly exhausted before they all understood, and he never thought of looking at his own hand at all. The chair where he sat was one of those old-fashioned kind, made of horsehair, and he kept slipping down, and by his gyrations alone anyone could have seen his uneasiness.

Finally, after much explanation they got down to a real game. Each got her cards, examined them defiantly and every one bet with a recklessness that had no limit but the amount of beans on hand. The last bean was on the table. After about forty-five different attempts, each prefaced and followed by explanations from the miserable ghost they had drawn and discarded.

“I did not need anything more,” said the old lady, “but I thought I might get something better than four aces, so now I will stand squat.”

“I—I beg your pardon?” gasped he.

“That is what you said, isn’t it, Lavinia? I mean when you have all you want.”

“Oh, pat, madam. I said pat.”

“If you had meant pat, why did you say squat? Was it meant to confuse me?”

“What is trump, please,” said the widow plaintively.

“There is no trump in poker, madam,” said Edwards for the twentieth time.

The old maid leaned over and whispered confidentially:

“I won't play if such favoritism is shown”

“Please, dear Mr. Edwards; is mine a good hand?”

“I only wish that I might always be sure of holding one as good. Why, madam, it is simply gorgeous—a regular beauty.”

“Oh, Mr. Edwards! You naughty man!”

“I see everyone and I make it five hundred better and I call,” cried Mrs. Fogg, piling all her beans in a heap and then preparing one end of her shroud to hold her winnings. The big gambler had somehow found a pocketknife and this he jabbed surreptitiously into the chair as a relief to his feelings, while the six women were quarreling over the beans. They appealed to him, and the old lady said:

“Mr. Edwards, Mrs. Robinson hasn't anted at all for three hands, and Miss Shookes puts a handful of beans of all colors in the pot every time without counting them.”

“Oh, well; she knows that this is only to learn. She wouldn’t do that if it were real money.”

“No, indeed; for I was always noted for my prudence about money. That is how I died richer than some folks I know of, who had scarcely enough to pay for their funerals.”

“I think, ladies, that you could all show your hands now.”

Mrs. Fogg triumphantly put six cards on the table. She had kept one of her discards to make up three pairs. This caused much animated discussion, particularly as Mrs. Washner had four fives.

“You said you had four aces,” whimpered Mrs. Fogg when the case was decided against her.

“I did not, did I, Mr. Edwards?”

“I don’t remember,” replied he, wishing that he had had sense enough to go into the billiard room and stay there instead of making such an idiot of himself.

“I simply said that I drew that card to see if I could get anything better than four aces. Now, isn’t that what you would call a bluff?”

“Yes; and it was a good one, too,” said he admiringly.

“Besides Mrs. Fogg had six cards, and—”

“Well she didn’t have the four aces, and that isn't half as honest as my having six cards. You told me, and you know it very well, that I was to get as many pairs as I could. She didn’t have the aces, and I did have three pairs, and I am entitled to the beans, so now!”

The woman with the fine teeth looked dreamily at the gambler and silently laid down her hand. There were four aces and a king. None of the others had anything to beat this, and she smiled bewitchingly at him as he awarded her the beans, whereat Mrs. Fogg flew into a violent passion and sobbed tearlessly, until the poor man did not know what to do. She continued until he was ready to throw up the whole affair and leave as she said:

“I just don’t care! I am sure Mr. Edwards just picked those cards out on purpose for her. I don’t want the old beans. I detest beans, only I believe in standing up for principle, and I know that gamblers—professional gamblers—do cheat at cards.”

“I think that a gambler—even a professional gambler—would have to be very unprincipled to try to win with six cards when he knew that that was the worst kind of cheating,” said the old maid, taking up the man’s defense with such an air of having the right to champion his cause that his jaw dropped and he made a movement as if for flight. At this point quite a number of other ghosts who had gathered around them began to clap their hands, and one said:

“Go in, little woman, and win. You will make a famous player in time.”

The little belligerent hurriedly arose and said angrily:

“If Mr. Fogg were only here, you would see what would happen. I won't stay here to be abused. I was lowering myself anyway.”

“I think so, too,” said the old maid, “but it was by the way you have acted and not from your association with anyone here. We can spare you without sorrow.”

By this time several more had gathered, and the ladies, seeing that they were attracting more attention than they desired, left the card room so suddenly that the newspaper man could not tell which way they went. Then he looked for the big ghost. He, too, had disappeared. So the reporter, left to himself, decided to go and find the leader and tell him the outcome of the affair.

The young man thought that it might be that this affair was a form of punishment for former sins of omission or commission. But he must indeed have been a very bad man to deserve such a punishment as this, and he thought, too, that no other form of punishment could have been devised so well calculated to break a real gambler’s heart. He felt sorry for him.

The reporter then went to the billiard room in search of the leader of the evening’s ceremonies. He was nowhere to be seen, and the young man stood watching the billiard players. He thought they all seemed to be playing in a perfunctory way, and there was no spirit in their play. Spectators stood about watching the progress of the games, and occasionally making remarks of approbation or derision.

There were several men there whom the young man felt sure he had seen in life, but as none spoke to him he did not exactly like to press the acquaintance. One of the men that he felt so positive that he had known in life had been a rabid billiard player, and he neglected his family to such an extent that the young reporter’s mother once said that she hoped that when he died he would have to play billiards continually for a few millions of years as a just punishment. He was one of those who did not seem to be having a good time at all.

Thinking that there might be things of more interest going on in other parts of the place, the young newspaper man went out to the main hall. There were things to see there.