Part 9 (2/2)
”Those fellows certainly stick to my ident.i.ty.”
The detective engaged in the game. He was not a gambler--he abhorred gambling. He had seen so many men drop down to poverty who had taken their first step back in a gambling den, and during the course of his career he had warned, and in some instances saved young clerks who were just beginning to slide downward. Gambling is a fatal amus.e.m.e.nt and sooner or later leads to disaster. Oscar, however, knew how to gamble.
He had learned the various games merely as aids in his profession, for most criminals are inveterate gamblers, and it is in gambling dens where detectives find their richest fields for ”dead shadows.”
A few moments after Oscar had gotten into the game one of the men who were shadowing him also got in. It proved to be a very commonplace play.
No large bets were made, no great sums were lost or won. The shadower had managed to crowd in beside our hero, and Oscar had favored him in securing the seat, and as was expected the man opened a conversation.
”A slow game,” he said.
”Very,” answered our hero laconically.
”I don't like this faro anyhow,” said the man.
”It pa.s.ses time.”
”I prefer a good game of draw.”
Oscar detected that the man was just playing a good game of _draw_--he was trying to _draw_ our hero into a private little game of draw-poker; but it was not the poker that he wanted to inaugurate. His game was to draw our hero to some convenient place where he could play a still more significant game of _draw_.
”I like a game of draw myself,” said Oscar, nowise loath to favor the man's game.
The detective did not know where it was all leading to, or what it was leading up to as a final denouement, but he was inured to the taking of desperate chances. Peril was a pastime to him. He was ever watchful and always prepared for danger.
”I think I've seen you before,” said the man.
”Where?”
”I can't recall; possibly in some club.”
Our hero had detected that he was dealing with a very smart man--a man of nerve and coolness--a man who went slow but sure. He also discerned that it was to be a play of skill and experience in roguery against experience and skill in detective work.
”Let's take a little of their whisky,” said the man. ”It's about all we can get out of this game.”
Oscar, having set out to be led, rose from the table, cashed in his checks, as his whilom friend did, and followed to the sideboard where they were joined by the second man, and number one said:
”My friend Thatford. I don't know your name, sir.”
”Woodford Dunne,” answered our hero promptly.
”Yes, I've heard the name. I reckon you are acquainted with some friend of mine, for I've certainly heard the name.”
The men had poured out their drink, when number one, who had announced his own name as Girard, said:
”That's mighty poor whisky. It's like the game--bad.”
Thatford said:
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