Amalu
and Hemstead had each more than held their own, but
Tommy was cruel far to leeward, and the captain was
reduced to perhaps fifty pounds.
"I say, let's knock off," said Carthew.
"Give that man a glass of Buckle," said some one, and a
fresh bottle was opened, and the game went inexorably
on.
Carthew was himself too heavy a winner to withdraw or
to say more, and all the rest of the night he must look
on at the progress of this folly, and make gallant
attempts to lose, with the not uncommon consequence of
winning more. The first dawn of the 11th February
found him well nigh desperate. It chanced he was then
dealer, and still winning. He had just dealt a round
of many tens; every one had staked heavily. The
captain had put up all that remained to him--twelve
pounds in gold and a few dollars,--and Carthew, looking
privately at his cards before he showed them, found he
held a natural.
"See here, you fellows," he broke out, "this is a
sickening business, and I'm done with it for one." So
saying, he showed his cards, tore them across, and rose
from the ground.
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