Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE DUKE AND THE DUCATS 19 be very big. What a dumb-bell I am—I never thought of this dodge—and Bill talking about Lee’s poker playing for four years!” HALF hour later Ivers got them at the hot dog stand where they had eaten, and was escorting them into the door of Donnelly’s. Facing the door, and only ten feet from it, was a long bar with four bartenders at work. At one end of it there was a door, and over the low partition dividing the shallow bar- room from the rear there came the never ending, unmistakable sound of many men gambling. Waiters were very busy, purveying to the back room. Ivers led them through the door. Daly’s eyes took in the scene quickly. There were at least twenty-five tables scattered over the huge. structure, each in charge of a house man with an eye- shade over his eyes. Klondike, twenty- one, roulette, stud and draw poker, faro, keno—all were there. In the rear of the room two huge green crap tables were surrounded by a throng of men. In the center of the room a barred cashier’s cage held three men—one cashier and two guards, both armed with sawed off shot- guns as well as revolvers. “You'll play upstairs,” Ivers told them. ‘Here’s Donnelly now. See that man standing by the crap tables—the tallest one? That’s Derringer. I think he’ll play with you, if he has time. Mr. Donnelly, this is Mr. MacDowell and Mr. Daly.” Duke Daly had seen a thousand of Donnelly’s type. He was of medium height, slightly bald, carefully dressed, and his smooth, fleshy face held a speciously genial smile while cool black, eyes mirrored no emotion whatever. His grip was neither strong nor weak. He looked like a carefully groomed denizen of a city underworld. His mouth was full lipped, and bracketed in two very deep wrinkles. “T’ve heard of your father,” he told MacDowell. “Glad to know you. Mr. Ivers here has said that he stands be- hind you for any amount, and I guess you want a real game, eh?” His smile seemed to convey admiration for two real gamblers. “That’s us,” Tex said with a grin. “We've got some money, and crave action.” “We have a private room upstairs,” Donnelly told them. “Over there is Mr. Derringer. He’s willing to play—one of the wealthiest men in town—and a rich little lease hound named Dave Harris, who likes a good game. I’m going to play myself, to fill out the game and because I crave action, personally.” Again that wide, oily smile, which did not change those hard eyes. Daly felt the fundamental coldness and calculation in the man. “Of course,” he went on with apparent frankness, “‘our usual house cut of five per cent, deducted from all stacks bought, will. be in order. That’s mild for this racket, don’t you think?” Daly nodded, Donnelly seemed to be talking mostly to him, despite the fact that he had said nothing. His- eyes rested persistently on the Duke, as though trying to figure him out. It was almost as though he sensed a familiar something about him which puzzled him. Daly thought back to the old days, and was certain, however, that he had never run across Mr. Draw One Donnelly. Possibly Donnelly had seen him, however, or heard of him. The change in the flyer’s face,: due to the operation, frequently puzzled people who had known him well, ; “Let’s go up,” suggested Donnelly. “T'll get Slats and Dave right now.” “T’m leaving you,” Ivers said. “T’ll be in my office when you get through. Sure Derringer is going to play, eh? Well, good luck!” He smiled a very wide and beaming smile, and waddled out of the noisy, smoke filled room. “We play against three,” Daly said in low tones as Donnelly went after Der- ringer. “They'll be doing a whole lot of raising just on their weight of money comicloooks.com