The dealer’s eyes flickered, but his face stayed hard. ‘That’s right, mister. Me and that Navy revolver under my table.’

Collis took a sip of whisky, almost delicately. Then he set down his glass. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll make you a bet. I’ll name those cards, but for particular stakes. If I’m wrong, you can have all of this money here in front of me. If I’m right, I get your Navy revolver. No money, just your Navy revolver.’

‘Come on now, Collis,’ Charles said, ‘if you’re right at four to one you could walk out of here with a good grubstake.’

‘There’s always tomorrow night,’ said Collis. ‘Right now, that’s all I want. This cardwhacker’s Navy revolver.’

‘Please yourself,’ said Andrew. ‘If you want to act crazy, act crazy. That dark girl on the steamer said you were crazy.’

The dealer was rubbing at his moustache, frowning and confused. At last he nodded agreement and reached below the green-cloth-covered table. He laid a long-barrelled blue-steel revolver on the table, and as he did so, the players at the next table abruptly went quiet and nudged their neighbours, and before anybody knew what was happening, the Eagle Saloon was hushed, and the tables all around them were cleared. Collis looked around and saw that almost the entire clientele was staring fixedly back at him, stiffly crowded in a circle as if they were posing for a group-photograph, hats on their heads, cigars in their mouths, coat pockets sagging. The piano player, the last to realise that there was anything unusual happening, went on pounding at ‘The Green Hills of Virginia’; but then he sensed trouble, and turned around, and the music died on one clumsy chord.

‘Are you ready?’ asked Collis. ‘Whatever all of this money adds up to, it says eight, five, king.’

The dealer coughed. Then, out of the box, he dealt the eight of hearts. Andrew glanced at Collis, gnawing uncertainly at his knuckle, but Collis, even though he saw him, did everything he could to stay straight-faced. It was one of the principles that Henry Browne had always taught him: stay calm, whatever happened; or try to. The odds were that everyone else was just as upset and wound up as you were.

Underneath the eight of hearts was the five of spades.

The tension was unrelieved. Collis blew out smoke, watching the dealer to see what he would do. Of course, there was nothing he could do. The Eagle Saloon may have been boisterous by New York standards, but it wasn’t a hole-in-the-wall gambling hell. Collis reached across the table and picked up the Navy revolver. It was much heavier than he had expected it to be, and it smelled of oil.

‘Give me your hat,’ he said to the dealer.

The dealer blinked. ‘Whut?’

‘Your hat. Hand it over.’