The men played all-fours; and what generally happens in this sort of
company happened now to Captain Jernam. He began by winning, and ended
by losing; and his losses were much heavier than his gains.
He had been playing for upwards of an hour, and had drunk several
glasses of punch, before his luck changed, and he had occasion to take
out the bloated leathern pocket-book, distended unnaturally with notes
and gold.
But for that rum-punch he might, perhaps, have remembered Joyce
Harker's warning, and avoided displaying his wealth before these two
men. Unhappily, however, the fumes of the strong liquor had already
begun to mount to his brain, and the clerk was completely forgotten. He
opened his pocket-book every time he had occasion to pay his losses,
and whenever he opened it the greedy eyes of Dennis Wayman and Black
Milsom devoured the contents with a furtive gaze.
With every hand the sailor grew more excited. He was playing for small
stakes, and as yet his losses only amounted to a few pounds. But the
sense of defeat annoyed him. He was feverishly eager for his revenge:
and when Milsom rose to go, the captain wanted him to continue to play.
"You shan't sneak off like that," he said; "I want my revenge, and I
must have it."
Black Milsom pointed to a little Dutch clock in a corner of the room.
"Past eight o'clock," he said; "and I've got a five-mile walk between
me and home.
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