"An even fiver on the next game," was my challenge.
"Done," said Humphrey Friende; "the fiver is mine."
We tossed for move, and I won.
I had not the sum of money with me if I lost. Long and deeply I thought, but somehow defeat was looming ahead.
"I have won—I have you!" chuckled the old man, as time went on; "you had better resign—it's waste of time going on."
So it was. I resigned.
"Double or quits," I said. "Just one more game."
"Certainly, certainly," replied the victor; "but, first—Jacques"—he rang the bell.
The faithful Jacques appeared instantly, as if he had been at the door itself.
"Whisky, soda, and cigars," his master ordered, "and then you need not wait up for me. I may be late."
"Help yourself, doctor, and me, if you don't mind," said Friende, "and now for a great struggle."
Temptation was too strong for me here, Brown, and I dropped two minute tabloids of digitalin into my opponent's drink. Ten pounds was far too much for me to lose, just at this time.
