Turner gazed at him in astonishment, his mouth filled with yellowing teeth, slightly open. He himself, once one of the most successful criminals in the world, could not possibly scrape together a hundred sovereigns in a week and yet, here was a fugitive on the run from the Enforcers who claimed he could acquire eight hundred in an hour. From his experience, it was simply impossible.
"Oh, yes," piped the detective suddenly. "I do need information on these gamblers first before I act."
"You're not planning to play against them, are you?" asked Turner, finally getting a grasp of what Sigerson was about to do.
"That would take too long. Just trust me, Turner. Don't you remember the first time I caught you and—"
"Just tell me what you need to know and I'll try my best to answer you," cut in Turner with a painful reminiscence in mind that he wished to erase forever.
"We'll have to return to the main room first. This way, Turner."
Right next to the sitting room was the adjoining main room, where the noise and excitement was coming from. Several tables were set up here along with many shabby chairs that looked like they had been in use for at least a century. On these chairs were numerous gamblers that Sigerson was searching for: loud, overconfident men. One in particular stood out to him; Sigerson watched him play and asked, "Who is that over there?"
Turner followed his gaze and after understanding who he was talking about, answered, "He's Mr Bowers. Been around here for several years now, I believe. They say he's never lost a game before, but I disagree."
"Interesting… This man seems like a worthy opponent to me. Stay here and I'll be back with a few sovereigns."
Leaving Turner sitting confused on his chair, Sigerson approached the gambler naturally. They were still in the middle of a game of bridge and, as a result, were unable to notice an unfamiliar man standing amongst the small circle of spectators.
Bowers, who had an outstanding reputation in the gambling den, focused on his cards intensely, paying absolutely no attention to his surroundings.
Here is a man, possibly in his thirties, dressed in considerably better clothing than the rest of his peers. These clothes show he has either spent a considerable amount of wealth or has received them from another wealthy citizen. Probably the former.
The tan lines, blistered hands and dirt between his fingernails indicate that he belongs to the working class, yet his manner of speech and perfect memory indicate previous education. If he has been playing against these gullible amateurs for years, it's not unlikely that he's amassed an adequate sum of money from them… Being in the spotlight for so long will be his weakness; the crowd gathered around him will pressure him into playing against me, even if he wishes to refuse. His confidence must have grown tremendously if his opponents are all so foolish…
When the game was finally over, Sigerson weaved through the crowd and stopped in front of Bowers, who was collecting his pile of money. Twisting his head around to find a stranger peering down at him, Bowers hastily shoved the rest of the coins into the pouch and asked, "May I help you, sir?"
Now that he had his attention, it was time to lure him in.
"Yes; if you are willing, sir, might I ask you to participate in a gamble with me? I was just admiring your skilled hand back then and thought it would be interesting to put my skills in play against a talented player such as yourself."
"Now, now, there's no need to flatter me like that," chuckled Bowers, though he was exceptionally pleased to be complimented. "Since the seats are now empty, why not?"
Sigerson gave him a polite nod and seated himself across the circular table. By now, the crowd had sensed there would be another round of entertainment, so the majority stayed or came back to spectate. An enthusiastic onlooker next to them shuffled the deck of cards vigorously, while Bowers leant forward with a confident grin on his face and asked Sigerson for the game they were to play. Sigerson, who had already known what he was going to do before he even stepped out from the sitting room, said, "Why don't we just have a game of memorisation? We'll split the cards into four groups and see who can recall the individual cards in their separate groups the most accurately."
Almost instantly, the room shook with noise. Jeers and mocking laughter filled their ears; after all, nobody came to the gambling den to play such childish simple games. Although deep inside of him was hoping for and unfazed by this sudden reaction, Sigerson put on a convincing display of embarrassment to lure Bowers into overconfidence.
Waving his hand to calm the crowd, Bowers sighed in a self-assured way, leant forwards, and replied, "I'll take your challenge. What's your bet?"
"I bet… 5 sovereigns."
Just as Bowers opened his mouth to speak, Sigerson raised his hand to catch the gambler's attention, then said, "How about this? We'll both raise our bets before a round and compete in four rounds with an extra deck of cards added after each round. At the end of the four rounds, the winner takes all. Is that fine with you, sir?"
Bowers, who had been listening with great interest, paused to piece the last few ideas in his mind.
"So, we memorise four groups of cards four times, place a bet and raise it before every round?"
"Yes, but at the end of each round, the groups will be reshuffled with an additional thirteen in each one to prevent cheating as well as making the challenge harder over time."
"I'm up for it," replied Bowers enthusiastically, not even hiding his confidence. "When do we begin?"
"Let's start now. Oh, and I would prefer the bets to be written down, so none of us has a chance of changing the values later on."
Both men pulled out or received a blank sheet of paper to write down their wagers; Sigerson did this rather half-heartedly as he was still unaccustomed to this new method of earning money. Since bridge and many other card games played in the gambling den required not only skill but also strong memorisation skills, Sigerson knew Bowers wouldn't hesitate to take up this offer to make some easy bucks.
When both men were ready to begin the first round, the cards were split into four equal groups and the papers were set down on the table for all to see.
Sigerson had only wagered five sovereigns, while Bowers had an intimidating fifty written down, hidden away under his arm so nobody could be certain of his number. Seeing his opponent's measly five, Bowers gave another confident chuckle and called to Sigerson across the table.
"Come now, we won't be getting anywhere if your bet is so low."
Ignoring this provocative comment, Sigerson nodded to the dealer, whose hands promptly halted to a stop and began to place the cards in four equal rows. Out of the corner of his eye, the detective spied on his prey discreetly while going through the plan in his head.
Approximately half an hour has passed… Time is precious here… The only way I can proceed to the next step is if I win this gamble quickly… Did you think I wouldn't notice? The paper underneath your arm… You're planning to bump up the value if it looks like you have a certain chance of winning, aren't you?
Four rows of cards on the table were all that separated these two scheming men.
"Well now," said Bowers, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Why don't we each have a few seconds to go through the cards and then write down the four combinations at the same time? Of course, to ensure nobody cheats, we can have the crowd monitor our moves at all times."
"That's fine by me," answered Sigerson unenthusiastically, shrugging his shoulders. Gambling was admittedly his worst skill in his toolset, although he had a strong feeling that Evelyn would be perfectly thrilled to exchange roles with him. Shaking the unnecessary thoughts out from his mind, Sigerson picked up a random row of cards and stared at them for nearly a minute.
All of a sudden, he was aware of the dozens of eyes burning into his back. Most of the crowd were snickering, thinking to themselves what a fool he was for challenging the undisputed champion in the house. Certainly, they were reassured of this, for after Sigerson had finally taken his time to stare at each of the rows and write his answers down, the cards were revealed. While Sigerson's paper was filled with tiny mistakes, Bowers perfectly memorised the first round with ease.
"Don't worry, there are still three more rounds to go," said Bowers consolingly, handing over the cards to the dealer to be reshuffled. But the detective could sense the keenness hidden away in his voice.
The second and third rounds passed without much of a difference, except for a few small mistakes on Sigerson's side. Desperately scanning through the rows of cards, which had now increased to fifty two cards each, Sigerson muttered under his breath harshly as he flipped through the cards carelessly. Bowers, who was an expert at identifying signs of stress due to his years of experience in this gambling den, merely grinned at him, certain that victory was his. Both men had scribbled down their final bets and were about to finally get to the last deck of cards, when Sigerson put his hand down on the desk forcefully.
"What is it?" asked Bowers kindly.
"May I propose something first?"
"Go ahead."
Sigerson cleared his throat and announced to the entire room, "I've come to the decision that it is certainly possible I might lose, so I would like to bet everything on this last round. If I lose, I'll give everyone here who wishes to bet ten sovereigns. If I lose, everyone betting against me will have to pay me five sovereigns. Is that fair?"
Murmurs rippled throughout the entire room like a wave. Some were considering taking part in this massive gamble, but others were skeptical.
"How do we know you intend to pay us?"
A flash of gold flickered across the table. Sigerson flicked a shiny gold ring encrusted with a flashy diamond over to the doubting man.
"Do you believe me? You can keep that if I go back against my word."
A ripple of murmurs resurfaced, filling the room with a sort of buzzing sound. One by one people began to place bets and write their names on the sheet. As the final gamblers stood back to spectate the final round, Sigerson motioned for the dealer to stop shuffling.
"Just a minute. Why don't you pick the cards up first Mr Bowers?"
"Me?"
A faint hint of nervousness seeped out from him, detected instantly by the anticipating detective.
"Why do you think I should go first?"
"Actually," said Sigerson, lowering his voice to an intimidating whisper. "Why are you so nervous? You aren't hiding anything are you?"
"No, of course not."
"Well then," he said, tilting his head. "You go first, sir."
Bowers picked up the first card with a slight tremble in his fingers. Piercing him with his gaze like an eagle, Sigerson kept him under constant surveillance before taking the cards for himself.
—
Both men had scribbled down their final answers. It was time to reveal the winner. As both papers were placed on the table and checked in plain view of all the spectators, heavy silence fell upon them. Finally, the dealer, white faced with eyes round as a coin, announced his verdict.
"The winner is…"