“This is living again,” said the newcomer, accepting briskly. “Well, and how have you been, Thorn, old man?”
Thorn, with his usual lack of warmth, admitted that he had been pretty good, and the game was resumed. If Bob Eden had feared for his immediate future before, he now gave up all hope. Sitting in a poker game with Shaky Phil—well, he was certainly traveling and seeing the world.
“Gimme four cards,” said Mr. Maydorf, through his teeth.
If it had been a bitter, brutal struggle before, it now became a battle to the death. New talent had come in—more than talent, positive genius. Maydorf held the cards close against his chest; his face was carved in stone. As though he realized what he was up against, Madden grew wary, but determined. These two fought it out, while Thorn and the boy trailed along, like noncombatants involved in a battle of the giants.
Presently Ah Kim entered with logs for the fire, and if the amazing picture on which his keen eyes lighted startled him, he gave no sign. Madden ordered him to bring highballs, and as he set the glasses on the table, Bob Eden noted with a secret thrill that the stomach of the detective was less than twelve inches from the long capable hands of Shaky Phil. If the redoubtable Mr. Maydorf only knew—
But Maydorf’s thoughts were elsewhere than on the Phillimore pearls. “Dealer—one card,” he demanded.
The telephone rang out sharply in the room. Bob Eden’s heart missed a beat. He had forgotten that—and now—After the long wait he was finally to speak with his
