Captain Hirst’s Virgin Bride The room was suddenly silent, all hinged upon the turn of a card. Lord Cashmire watched intently as I turned over my last card. An Ace. The colour drained from his face. “But you were bluffing, the nerve on your neck” he stammered. “Nerves my Lord,” I assured him, “Just nerves, you may well have had a superior hand. “My God Cashers, you’ve lost it all!” Bunty Buntingthorpe exclaimed. I looked around as Mallinson acting as server, or Croupier as the frenchies have it, pushed the immense pile of chips and Cashmire’s note towards me. I was...
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