It was so annoying if you won, to be handed a number of green counters and be informed that they represented so many hundreds or thousands of pounds, or vice-versa if you lost, for as it cost no one anything, my dear father insisted upon playing for enormous stakes.  Never in any aspect of life have I cared for fooling.  Anscombe also disliked cards, I think because his ancestors too had played with counters, such as some that I have seen belonging to the Cocoa-Tree Club and other gambling places of a past generation, marked as high as a thousand guineas, which counters must next morning be redeemed in hard cash, whereby his family had been not a little impoverished.

“I fancy you will find they are high-fliers,” he said when the pair had left to fetch a suitable table, for the night being very hot we were going to play on the stoep by the light of the hanging paraffin lamp and some candles.  I replied to the effect that I could not afford to lose large sums of money, especially to men who for aught I knew might then be engaged in marking the cards.

“I understand,” he answered.  “Don’t you bother about that, old fellow.  This is my affair, arranged for my special amusement.  I shan’t grumble if the fun costs something, for I am sure there will be fun.”

“All right,” I said, “only if we should happen to win money, it’s yours, not mine.”

To myself I reflected, however, that with these two opponents we had about as much chance of winning as a snowflake has of resisting the atmosphere of the lower regions.

Presently they returned with the table, which had a green cloth over it that hung down half-way to the ground.  Also one of the native boys brought a tray with spirits, from which I judged by various signs, old Marnham, who had already drunk his share at dinner, had helped himself freely on the way.  Soon we were arranged, Anscombe, who was to be my partner, opposite to me in his long chair, and the game began.

I forget what particular variant of cards it was we played, though I know it admitted of high and progressive stakes.  At first, however, these were quite moderate and we won, as I suppose we were meant to do.  After half an hour or so Marnham rose to help himself to brandy and water, a great deal of brandy and very little water, while I took a nip of Hollands, and Anscombe and Rodd filled their pipes.

“I think this is getting rather slow,” said Rodd to Anscombe.  “I vote we put a bit more on.”

“As much as you like,” answered Anscombe with a little drawl and twinkle of the eye, which always showed that he was amused.  “Both Quatermain and I are born gamblers.  Don’t look angry, Quatermain, you know you are.  Only if we lose you will have to take a cheque, for I have precious little cash.”

“I think that will be good enough,” replied the doctor quietly—­“if you lose.”