Birds of Prey - Smith Wilbur (версия книг TXT) 📗

"Three hundred, was it?" He began to count out the coins from the chest. They made a splendid profusion in the centre of the table.

"Will you be kind enough to hold the stakes, Captain?" Vincent asked politely. "That is, if the colonel agrees?"

"I have no objection." Schreuder nodded stiffly and passed his purse to Llewellyn. Inwardly the first regrets were assailing him. He had not expected any of them to take up his challenge. A loss of such magnitude must beggar most men, as indeed it would beggar him.

Llewellyn received both purses, and placed them before him. Then Vincent took up the leather dice cup and passed it across to Schreuder.

"We usually play with these, sir." Vincent said easily. "Would you care to examine them? If they are not to your liking, perhaps we may be able to find others that suit you better."

Schreuder shook the dice out of the cup and rolled them across the table. Then he picked up each ivory cube and held it to the lamplight.

"I can see no blemish," he said, and replaced them in the cup. "It remains only to agree on the game. Will it be Hazard?"

"English Hazard, "Vincent agreed. "What else?"

"What limit on each coup?" Schreuder wanted to know. "Will it be a pound or five?"

"A single coup only," said Vincent. "The shooter to be decided by high dice, and then two hundred pounds on his Hazard."

Schreuder was stunned by the proposal. He had expected to make his wagers in small increments, which would allow him the possibility of withdrawing with some semblance of grace if the run of the dice turned against him. He had never heard of such an immense sum staked on a single throw of the dice.

One of Vincent's friends chortled delightedly. "By God's truth, Vinny! That will show up the colour of the cheese head liver."

Schreuder glared at him, but he knew he was trapped. For a moment longer he sought some escape, but Vincent murmured, "I do hope I have not embarrassed you, Colonel. I mistook you for a sport. Would you rather call off the whole affair?"

"I assure you," he said coldly, "that it suits me very well. One hazard for two hundred pounds. I agree."

Llewellyn placed one of the dice in the cup and passed it to Schreuder. "One dice to decide the shooter. High shoots. Is that your agreement, gentlemen?" Both men nodded.

Schreuder rolled the single dice, "Three!" said Llewellyn, and replaced it in the leather cup.

"Your throw, Mister Winterton." He placed the cup in front of Vincent, who swept it up and threw in the same motion.

"Five!" said Llewellyn. "Mister Winterton is the shooter at one coup of English Hazard for a purse of two hundred pounds." This time he placed both dice in the cup. "The shooter will throw to decide the main point. If you please, Mister Winterton."

Vincent took up the cup and rolled it out. Llewellyn read the dice. "The Main is seven."

Schreuder's soul quailed. Seven was the easiest Main to duplicate. Many combinations of the dice would yield it. The odds had swung against him, and this realization was reflected on the gloating face of every one of the watchers. If Vincent threw another seven or an eleven he would win, which was likely. If he threw the "crabs" one and one or one and two, or if he threw twelve then he lost. Any other number would become his Chance, and he would have to keep throwing until he repeated it or threw one of the losing combinations.

Schreuder leaned back and folded his arms as though to defend himself from a brutal attack. Vincent threw.

"Four!" said Llewellyn. "The Chance is now four." There was a simultaneous release of breath from every person at the table except Vincent. He had given himself the most difficult Main to achieve. The odds had swung back overwhelmingly in Schreuder's favour. Vincent must now throw a Chance four to win, or a Main seven to lose. Only two combinations could total four, whereas there were many others that would yield a losing seven.

"You have my sympathy, sir." Schreuder smiled cruelly. "Four is the devil's own number to make."

"The angels favour the virtuous." Vincent waved his hand lightly, and smiled. "Would you care to increase your stake. I will give you even money for another hundred pounds?" It was a foolhardy offer, with the odds stacked heavily against him, but Schreuder had not another guilder to avail himself of it.

He shook his head curtly. "I would not take advantage of a man who is on his knees."

"How gallant you are, Colonel," Vincent said, and threw again.

"Ten!" said Llewellyn. It was a neutral number.

Vincent picked up the dice and rattled them in the cup and threw again.

"Six!" Another neutral number and, though Schreuder sat still as a corpse, his colour was waxen and he could feel droplets of sweat crawling through his chest hairs like slimy garden slugs.

"This one is for all the pretty girls we left behind US," said Vincent and the dice clattered on the walnut tabletop as he threw again. For a long terrible moment no man moved or spoke. Then a howl went up from every English throat that must have alarmed the watch on the deck above and reached to the lookout at the top of the mainmast.

"Mary and Joseph! Two pairs of titties! As sweet a little four as I have ever seen!"

"Mister Winterton has thrown his Chance," intoned Llewellyn, and placed both heavy purses in front of him. "Mister Winterton wins." But his voice was almost drowned by the uproar of laughter and congratulation. It went on for several minutes while Schreuder sat immobile as a fallen forest log, his face grey and sweating.