"He will have it all," I thought. "The Claymore Tavern will soon
change owners;" and I was holding my breath over the final stake
when suddenly the house gave a lurch, resettled, then lurched
again. The tempest had become a hurricane, and with its first
swoop a change took place in the stranger's luck.
The bills which had all gone one way began slowly to recross the
board, first singly, then in handfuls. They fell within Spencer's
grasp, and the smile with which he hailed their return was not the
smile with which he had seen them go, but a steady grin such as I
had beheld on the faces of sculptured demons. It frightened me,
this smile. I could see nothing else; but, when at another
crashing peal I ducked my head, I found on lifting it that my eyes
sought instinctively the rigid back of the stranger instead of the
open face of Spencer. The passion of the winner was nothing to
that of the loser; and from this moment on, I saw but the one
figure, and thrilled to the one hope--that an opportunity would
soon come for me to see the face of the man whose back told such a
tale of fury and suspense.
But it remained fixed on Spencer, and the cards. The roof might
fall--he was past heeding. A bill or two only lay now at his
elbow, and I could perceive the further stiffening of his already
rigid muscles as he dealt out the cards. Suddenly hard upon a
rattling peal which seemed to unite heaven and earth, I heard
shouted out:
"Half-past two! The game stops at three.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233