“You’re right about that,” said the man. “Parsnit takes an awful toll on folks who ain’t got the proper constitution. Heck, it takes a toll on all of us who play. And yet we do. Peculiar predicament, ain’t it?”

“I guess,” said Tally. “I tell you right now, this game ain’t for me.”

“But I reckon it is for this one, ain’t it?” he said, pointing at me. “Bet you can’t drag this little fella away from a Parsnit table once his number’s called. On account of who his daddy is, I mean.”

“What are you getting at, mister?” I said.

“What I’m getting at is how about we have us a little duel, you and me?” he said. “I know you got a deck, else they wouldn’t have let you past the front room. How about it, son? How about you play ol’ Radegar?”

That flat flabbergasted me. I never counted on being actually challenged in Baudelaire Quatro’s Place. I didn’t figure there’d be anybody who would want to.

“I don’t know, mister,” I said. “I think I ought to get back to finding Pop. Don’t got much time for games right now.”

“But this ain’t any mere game, son,” said Radegar. “It’s Parsnit. Knowing him, your pop will keep just fine, wherever he is.”

“It ain’t right,” I said. “I got to go.”

A voice spoke up behind me.

“In point of fact, Master Pennington, you may not go.”

The concierge was standing right there behind me in his little suit.

“What have you got to do with anything?” I said. “I’m leaving. I got to find my pop.”

“I have everything to do with everything,” said the concierge, “and I say to you, if you are offered a duel, you must accept. Those are Mr. Baudelaire Quatro’s House Rules.”

“Thank you, Mr. Concierge,” said Radegar, bowing a little. “I was afraid this little scamp was gonna try and weasel out of a duel.”

“How’d you get up here so fast?” I said.

“Mr. Quatro himself told me,” said the concierge. “I was informed that a challenge had been issued.”

“Is the old fella around?” said Radegar. “I’ve been wanting to meet him for ages, him being an original Parsnit player and all. Heard he was quite the Orator in his day, could flat talk you to weeping. Gent must be old now though, huh? Least over a hundred.”

“Mr. Quatro is indisposed at the moment,” said the concierge.

“Then how did he hear us?” I said.

“This house is Mr. Quatro, in a manner of speaking,” said the concierge. “Not a word is uttered that he does not hear, and there is not a nook, cranny, or closet in which Mr. Quatro is not somehow present. If you are in his House, in a sense, then you are inside Mr. Quatro’s Head as well.”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“And you don’t have to,” said the concierge. “The fact remains, a challenge has been issued, and you must accept it.”