Hydrofoil Mystery (14 page)

“This is where I can bet more money if I think I can beat you, right?”

“It's called raising.”

“Okay.” He reached down to his money and counted out five bills. He set them down in the pot. “Ten dollars.”

“You want to bet ten dollars?” I questioned.

“Is that too much?” he asked innocently.

“Well, I guess it depends on whether or not you think you have a good hand.”

“Oh … oh … can I change my bet?”

“Not in a real game, but you can if you want because you're learning,” I offered.

“Thank you.” He reached over, plucked another bill off his pile and threw it into the pot. “Make it fifteen dollars.”

I shook my head and put down my cards. “I fold.” “Fold?”

“That means I give up. You win the hand.” “Excellent! I win!” he trumpeted loudly. He put his cards on the table. He had a pair of threes. I would have won!

He raked in the pot, including my dollar. “And you were right, wagering has added a whole new level of interest to this game! I'll try not to win too much of your money,” Bell chuckled, and I felt the hackles on my back rise up.

I nodded politely but could feel my temper rising. I'd just see how he felt about it when he was on the losing end.

The second hand went the same way as the first; he won my dollar by scaring me out of the game with a big raise. Either he was bluffing or he just didn't know any better and was going to bet on anything. I shuffled the deck thoroughly. He was looking off, away from me toward the open door at the side of the room. I quickly noted the bottom three cards so I could deal them to myself later if they were needed.

Once again he declined to cut and I dealt the cards. He looked at each card as it came; he grimaced three times and put those cards on the left-hand side while two other cards were received more favorably and put on the right of the others. This was one of the tricks to look for: players often put their good cards on one side of their hand and their bad ones on the other. He
discarded the three cards from the left side of his hand. I had to fight to keep my smile hidden. He then raised the pot by ten dollars. My cards were good and I saw his raise and threw another dollar in. Mr. Bell chuckled and then met my raise and called. I placed my cards on the table; I had three jacks. His smile evaporated. He silently put his cards down, gathered the deck and started shuffling.

He wasn't happy, but I was pretty pleased to have some of his money sitting in my pile. Maybe I could raise the limit I was going to win. After all, he'd hardly miss the money, and I was going to give him a
real lesson
.

W
E PLAYED FOR OVER AN HOUR
. He won an occasional hand but I was winning more than three out of four. Even more important, when I did lose I lost only a few dollars, and when I won I was getting a big return. I hadn't counted my winnings, but I knew I was up by more than forty dollars. At one point, Mrs. McCauley-Brown came to summon us for dinner, but Mr. Bell said we'd be eating later and the rest should eat without us.

He continued to telegraph his cards—a little gleam in his eyes when a good one came, putting the bad ones off to the left side, betting too quickly and too big when he really had nothing in his hand. Maybe he was right and you can't teach an old dog new tricks. And to think I was worried that he'd be able to “read me” too easily.

There was also starting to be a desperation to his play. The more he was getting down, the less careful and considered his bets were becoming. I knew if
I wanted I could walk out of that room with hundreds of dollars.

Mr. Bell shuffled the cards, let me cut and then dealt. I picked up my cards but kept my eyes trained on him as he picked up his cards and studied them. Four of the cards were greeted by a small grimace and placed to the left of his hand while the fifth was met with a blank expression. Satisfied, I looked at my cards: three nines and two sevens, a full house!

“Cards, William?”

“I'll play the ones I was dealt.”

“Hah! They can't all be that good. You must be bluffing. I'll take … oh … three … no, make that four,” he said dealing himself replacements.

I studied his reaction. Three of the four cards were given a bad response while the fourth was put over to the far right side of his hand. That meant that the very most he could possibly have would be a pair, and the highest pair was a pair of aces. Obviously he had nothing to match my full house.

“Well, William, we should be getting to dinner. Why don't we make this the last hand?”

“That's all right with me.”

“Good.” He paused. He seemed to be gazing out the door and into the distance. “I think I'll raise thirty-five dollars,” he said as he counted off the money and threw it in the pot.

“Thirty-five dollars!” I exclaimed.

“Did I say thirty-five? I meant forty-five,” he said, and added a ten-dollar bill to the pile.

I hesitated. I knew my hand was better than his, but if I won I'd be well above the limit I'd set for myself.

“Come on, William, don't be such an old woman,” he taunted. “You know what they say, if you can't stand the heat you'd better get out of the kitchen.”

I chuckled. “I can stand the heat. Maybe I just don't want to take too much of your money.”

“Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself.” “Fine. I'll see your raise and raise you another ten dollars,” I responded.

“I hear your voice but I don't see your money. This game isn't played on credit. As I understand it, either you have the money or you fold.”

“I have the money,” I said defiantly. I rose from the table and lifted up my shirt to reveal my money belt.

“So that's where you keep your wealth. Do you have enough to match my bet?”

“More than match,” I snapped. I unbuttoned the belt and took out the bills. I counted out fifty-five dollars and laid it on the table.

“Doesn't leave you with much, does it?” he asked.

“If I lose … but I'm not going to lose.”

Bell laughed loudly. “It's good to be confident … at least good for
me
that you're confident. Well, William, I'm going to see your raise,” he said, putting ten more dollars in the pot, “and I'm going to raise you another hundred dollars.”

“A hundred dollars!”

“Yes.”

“But that isn't fair!” I protested.

“There's nothing unfair about it.” He reached under the table and grabbed the box. He opened it and removed a stack of bills. He quickly counted out the
money and threw it into the pot. “Are you going to see my raise?”

“I can't see your raise. I haven't got enough money!” “I guess I win,” he said as he reached out and put his hands on the pot to rake it in. He stopped and looked directly up at me. “Unless …” He stopped.

“Unless what?” I asked anxiously.

“What are your wages per week?”

“Eleven dollars.”

“And you're working here for another ten weeks, so that is one hundred and ten dollars. I could give you your summer's salary in advance.”

“You'd lend me the money?”

“Well … I probably shouldn't. It wouldn't be right for me to take your entire summer's earnings. Let's just forget that idea,” Bell said, and he started pulling the money toward him.

“Wait! Just lend me the money!” I pleaded.

“For you to match my bet?”

“Yes.”

“I've heard them say you shouldn't gamble if you can't afford to lose. I can afford to lose, but can you?”

I didn't answer. There was no gamble involved here. I knew I had the better hand. “So can I have the money?”

He hesitated for just a second and then counted out the bills. He pushed them toward me. I reached out to take them and he put his hand on top of mine.

“If I win, you know you have no choice but to work here all summer for absolutely no money. Understand?”

I nodded.

He removed his hand and I moved the money halfway across the table, leaving it in the pot in the centre of the table.

“And I raise you another seven dollars,” I said, taking my last few dollars and throwing them onto the pile.

A smile crossed his face. “Do you really think I'll fold for seven more dollars, William? Not likely!” He matched my few dollars. “Well, William, let's see your cards.”

I put down the pair of sevens.

“That's it! You bet all of this money on just a pair! You don't think I can beat a pair of sevens?” he thundered.

I then put down the trio of nines. “And three nines. Full house.” I reached forward and grabbed for the pot.

“Don't you think you should wait to see my cards?”

I stopped but didn't remove my hands.

He turned over the cards one by one and placed them down on the table in front of him: ace of hearts … king of hearts … queen of hearts … jack of hearts.

My heart had risen farther up my throat with each card. If the last card he was holding was the ten of hearts, then I had lost … not just the game but my whole summer. But it couldn't possibly be that card. Nobody could draw four cards to complete a royal flush.

Almost in slow motion he took the card and laid it down on the table beside the other four. The ten of hearts.

Chapter Twelve

I
FELT LIKE I'D BEEN
kicked in the stomach. Slowly, trembling, I withdrew my hands.

Suddenly Mr. Bell leapt to his feet. He started dancing around the table like an Indian circling a campfire. I jumped as he let out an ear-piercing whoop. If I could have, I would have run out of the room, but my legs were shaking so badly I didn't think they'd carry me. He plopped back down in his chair and raked in the money.

“That was a genuine war dance. Taught to me by members of the Mohawk Indian tribe. I'm an honorary member.”

I took a deep breath.

“You were right, William. Poker can be a very interesting game. It's sad for you, though, that you met a better player.”

“You're not better … it was just luck,” I croaked. “Luck? What do you mean luck?”

“You drew four cards to complete a royal flush. The odds have to be thousands and thousands to one against that.”

“Oh, no, you're wrong. The odds are more like a million to one, but luck played no part.”

“Of course it was luck. You're the luckiest person in the world.”

“I am blessed with the most wonderful wife in the world, exceptional children and grandchildren and relatively good health, but, as I said, luck is not a part of this equation.”

“If it wasn't luck, then what was it?”

“I cheated,” he said quietly.

“You what!”

“I cheated.”

I was too stunned to even think of what words to say next.

“But of course I had help. Mrs. McCauley-Brown!” he yelled.

One of the double doors off to the side, the one that had been closed, slowly swung open to reveal Mrs. McCauley-Brown. It looked as though she'd pushed it open with her foot, and she offered a smile and a small wave. She was sitting at a small table, holding a telephone in one hand.

“My good friend is on the phone talking to Mr. McGregor. Turn around and look out the window.”

I swivelled in my seat, and the bright sun caused me to shield my eyes.

“Do you see Mr. McGregor?”

I squinted and looked hard. I detected some motion and then saw him waving from the doorway of a small shed about a dozen yards away. He was holding something in one hand.

“Mr. McGregor has been reading your cards. Sometimes he'd practically come right to the window, and
other times he'd use that powerful telescope, which allowed him to see your cards easily from where he is now standing. Then, using a telephone in the shed,” he paused, “a most useful invention, the telephone—he called to Mrs. McCauley-Brown, who used hand signals, those used by the deaf to communicate, to relay the information to me.”

“You have a telephone in the shed?” I asked in astonishment.

“Not usually. I put it in this afternoon. I am handy with things like that, you know. And earlier in the day I'd placed a call to an old acquaintance of mine in Washington. He's what you might call a card expert, a professional gambler, and he was most helpful in explaining how to set up this escapade. Of course he said I'd still need one more person's assistance.”

“Who was that?”

“You.”

“Me!”

“Yes, you. Without your help none of this would have been possible.”

“I didn't help you!” I protested.

“Of course you did, starting with your choice of seats.

If you hadn't chosen that chair, with your back to the window, we couldn't have seen your cards. But I knew you'd sit there.”

“How did you know?”

“It's an old trick of men conducting business, and a new trick of pilots fighting air battles, to always have the sun at their backs. I thought it might be a trick of poker players as well. And then I tried to give you a number of
cues. Things like that little grimace when I didn't like the cards, always putting the bad cards on the left-hand side and betting more quickly when I had a frightfully bad hand. You did notice all of those, didn't you?”

“I noticed.” What I didn't notice was being set up. “But it was still lucky that you got the royal flush.”

“No. It was always right here,” he said, tapping the money box. “I took those cards from an identical deck and simply put them in there before the game began. Then when I reached for the money, I grabbed those cards when I dumped the ones I didn't want. Here they are,” he said, pulling them from the box. “Now does it all make sense to you?”

“Almost,” I gasped, still overwhelmed with what he'd said, like it was all still an unbelievable nightmare. “I just don't understand why … why you went to all this trouble. The money can't mean that much to you. You're rich.”