“Well, that’s enough—­nearly in,” said Loring, as they drew near their destination.

“Yes, indeed.  I must go back to my car.  We’ve had a pleasant game,” said the fourth man, taking his leave.

“Have a smoke—­you’ll find these A 1,” said the artist.  “Say, Mitchell, I’ve learned a new trick to illustrate the old saying that the hand is quicker than the eye.”  Sticking a cigar in the corner of his mouth, he ran over the cards swiftly, took out the two red jacks, and held them up, one in each hand, backs toward himself, faces to Mitchell and Steve.

“Now,” he said, “you can put these two jacks in the deck wherever you wish, shuffle them all you please, let me give them just one riffle, and you’ll find them both together.”  He put his handkerchief to his lips and turned away to cough, laying the two jacks face downward on the table.

With a nudge to Steve, Mitchell threw the jack of hearts under Loring’s seat, where it lay, face up, substituting therefor the five of clubs from the top of the deck.

Loring held the cards up again.  “There are the two jacks, gentlemen:  the two inseparable jacks.  Put them in for yourselves, and watch me—­close!”

Steve took the five of clubs and put it in the middle.  Mitchell put in the jack of diamonds.  Both shuffled.  Loring cut the pack into two equal parts, using only the extreme tip ends of his fingers, and shoved them together in the same fashion.  Balancing the deck on the open palm of his left hand, he turned the cards carefully with his right thumb and forefinger, keeping up a running fire of comment.

“Now watch me!  This trick won’t work with any other cards but the jacks.  The reason is easy to see.  Where you find one knave there’s always another close by.  ‘Birds of a feather flock together,’ you know.  Ah! here we are!” He turned over the knave of diamonds, and laid the deck down.  “Now,” he said to Mitchell, “what’ll you bet the next card isn’t the knave of hearts?” Here he was again attacked by that excruciating cough.

As he turned away Mitchell slyly turned up the corner of the next card, winking at Steve.  It was the five of clubs.  Evidently Loring had done the trick right, except for the substituted card.

“I’ll bet you five hundred dollars!” said Mitchell jubilantly.  He drew out a billbook and shook a handful of notes at the artist.  “A thousand, if you like!”

“Nobody wants to rob you, Mitchell,” laughed Loring.  “Put up your money.  I don’t need it.  I’ll do the trick, of course.”  Steve was laughing immoderately.

“Rob me!  Go ahead!  You’re welcome!” said Mitchell, riotously radiant.  He waved the bills before Loring’s eyes.  “Money talks!  Yah!  You haven’t the nerve to bet on it,” he taunted, his knee touching Steve’s under the table.

Loring’s black eyes snapped maliciously.  “Oh, well, you insist on it,” he said.  “I’ve warned you now, remember!  No rebate on this.  How much?” He pulled out a fat rubber-banded roll and began stripping bills from the outside.