"I saw it twice before this, in the glass," said Pembroke to Hibbs. "Each time I tried to catch him, but he did it so well I couldn't. But the last time it was perfectly plain,—you see. I could see under the table in the glass. You had better pick up your money, Hibbs."
At this, Ahlberg spoke up.
"All of it is Monsieur Hibbs'," he said with elaborate politeness, recovering his breath a little, "except two fifty-dollar notes, which are mine."
Pembroke picked out the two fifty dollar notes and dashed them in Ahlberg's face, who very cleverly caught them and put them in his pocket.
"Mr. Pembroke," said Hibbs, stammering and blushing, "I—I—hope you won't say anything about this, sir. It would ruin me—I don't mean in the canvass, for I tell you truly, sir, I hope you'll be elected, and if it wasn't for the party, I'd give up the fight now. But my mother, sir, don't approve—don't approve of playing for money—and—"
"You are perfectly safe," answered Pembroke, "and quite right in your idea of duty to your party, and your dislike to wound your mother is creditable. But as for this dog, he must leave this county at once."
Ahlberg said not a word. He did not lack mere physical courage, but cheating at cards was, to him, the most heinous offense of which he could be convicted. He had been caught—it was the fortune of war—there was nothing to be said or done.
