‘Three Queens!’ said Cardinal Mascarpone, happily turning over his cards.
‘Beats me,’ said Eugene D’Orbergene, throwing his hand in.
‘Three Kings!’ said Louie-Louie, ‘How apt. I think that I will be taking this hand.’
‘Not against a properly prepared military- minded Marshall,’ said Marshall Gney, ‘I have a full house, threes over twos.’ He smiled at Cardinal Bull, ‘Can you beat that, your Holiness?’
‘Only through the power of prayer, continual practice and great skill,’ laughed the scarlet clergyman, ‘four fours! I believe I win again!’
Eugene D’Orbergene was sure that Bull was cheating. He knew that he himself was cheating and he was confident that Marshall Gney always cheated; there were great opportunities to play cards with cheats in the army. He was fairly sure that the house dealer was cheating on behalf of the King; he just wasn’t as good at cheating as the army and the clergy. The gaming was becoming expensive and D’Orbergene was beginning to think it would be cheaper to lose honestly rather than to try and win dishonestly in such company. At least the drink was good, and he had hopes that the serving girls would be attractive, when, at last the food arrived. His next hand arrived, a three and a seven. At least this was not going to cost him much. While folding, he noticed that one of the guards, after a discreet word, had escorted Cardinal Mascarpone away.
‘Good riddance!’ he thought. He was not at all fond of the Cardinal, who seemed to be a most unpredictable drunk. D’Orbergene was not any fonder of Cardinal Bull and was thankful that, as an older son, he had been forced to join the Army and not the Church.
‘The buffet is now available,’ called out one of the Casino attendants. D’Orbergene looked up, pleased to see that some pretty girls were coming into an ante room that adjoined the games room. They were bringing in trays and plates piled with food. He sat back in his chair to get a better look at the talent.
‘Not bad,’ he thought to himself. Then he sat up with a start; the girl at the back, with the brown hair, looked just like Amarilla De Cassiones. Quizzically he looked down at his glass; had he drunk too much already? Surely that couldn’t be right? He waved the dealer away as the next hand was dealt,