1. The 'Over-hand Shuffle.'2. The 'Riffle' or 'Butt-in Shuffle.'3. The 'Écarté Shuffle.'
The over-hand shuffle is that in which the cards are taken in the left hand and shuffled, a few at a time, into the right. It is familiar to all, and requires no more than the mere mention of it to recall it to the reader's mind.
The riffle, or butt-in, as it is called in America, is the shuffle in which the pack is laid upon the table, the top half is taken off with the right hand and laid near it. The fingers of either hand then press upon the cards of the respective halves of the pack, whilst the thumbs 'riffle' or bend up the corners of the cards, allowing them to spring down, one or two at a time, from right to left alternately, those of one side falling between those of the other. Finally the cards are levelled up and the shuffle is complete.
The écarté shuffle is one in which the cards are laid on the table with one side of the pack facing the operator. The top half of the pack, or rather less, is taken off with the right hand and shuffled into the remainder of the cards held by the left as they lie upon the table.
In those cases where the dealer is not allowed to shuffle the cards in his hands, the riffle or the écarté shuffle is used. A variety of the riffle called the French shuffle is sometimes adopted in which a half of the pack is taken in either hand, the two halves resting upon thetable at one end and inclined towards each other, a few cards at a time being allowed to fall from either side alternately.
With these higher class shuffles then, it is evident that more improved methods of manipulation must be adopted to render them amenable to the purposes of cheating. We have therefore to examine the means employed by the sharp (1) to keep intact a pre-arrangement of the cards, (2) to leave undisturbed a certain portion of the pack which has been 'put up' or 'stocked,' and (3) to put up hands or arrange the cards to suit his own purposes. The corollary to these manipulations is necessarily the means of nullifying the effect of the cut which follows as an inevitable consequence upon the shuffle; except, of course, in those cases where a player is content to 'knock' instead of cutting. This 'knock' is an American institution, and consists of merely rapping the top of the pack with the knuckles. It signifies that the player does not wish to cut, and is frequently practised by the sharp's accomplice, when he has one, to avoid disturbing the order of the cards.
To retain the original order or pre-arrangement of a whole pack, the riffle is the shuffle that is generally used; the modification referred to in the last paragraph but one being the most convenient form for the purpose. The top half of the pack being taken in the right hand, and those of the bottom half in the left, the cards areriffled together upon the table. If the pack were levelled up, the shuffle would of course be effectual; but it is in the act of levelling that the trickery is introduced. As the cards rest in front of the operator, those of one side alternating with those of the other, they are covered by his hands, the thumbs being towards him, the three first fingers of each hand on the opposite side of the pack, and the little fingers pressing upon the ends of the right and left halves respectively. In this way the cards are just straightened merely, but not closed up. A turn of the hands, from the little fingers outwards, throws the two packets of cards at an angle one to the other, the thumbs now resting upon the corners nearest the operator. The little fingers are then closed in towards the thumbs. This has the effect of pushing the cards of each packet diagonally across those of the other. Those of the right half pass against the thumb of the left hand, whilst those of the left half pass in a similar manner across the right thumb. Thus the cards simply pass from either hand into the other. The top half of the pack is now held by the fingers and thumb of thelefthand andvice versa. The two packets are now quickly separated, and that in the left hand is placed above that in the right. The whole of the cards are therefore in their original positions, although they appear to have been perfectly shuffled. The passing of the cards across is to give the appearance of closing them together;whereas they really pass right through into the opposite hands. Quickly done, this shuffle is most deceptive, but the whole operation should not occupy more than a couple of seconds. It can always be detected by one who knows it, on account of the necessity of turning the two halves at an angle; otherwise it is perfect. It cannot be very successfully performed with a full pack, but with an écarté pack of 32 cards it is very simple.
To allow a certain number of cards to remain undisturbed is a comparatively simple matter in any shuffle. It is only necessary to see that theyareundisturbed. In the over-hand shuffle they may be placed either at the top or bottom of the pack, passing them all together from the left hand into the right. When they are at the top, the approved method is to slip off at once, into the right hand, as many of the top cards as may be necessary to insure that the whole of the selected cards are together. This packet is held by pressing the cards endwise between the forefinger and the root of the thumb. The remaining cards are then shuffledon to the forefinger, thus maintaining a slight division above those which have been put up. The final movement of the shuffle is to part the pack at this division, and return the top cards to their original position.
In the riffle shuffle it is quite as easy to retain the position of any cards which may require to be kept inview. If they are at the bottom of the pack, they are simply riffled down upon the table before any others are allowed to fall, and the rest of the cards are shuffled above them. If they are at the top, they are held back until all the other cards have fallen. In either case, the cards of one half are simply let down sooner or more slowly than those of the other, according to whether the stocked cards are at the top or the bottom.
In the écarté shuffle, the proceedings are a little more complex. It would never do to coolly ignore a certain portion of the pack in shuffling; therefore the observers have to be thrown off the scent. This is done by means of the manipulation known as 'the French card-sharper's shuffle,' which is accomplished in the following manner. The pack lies upon the table before the operator, with the stocked cards on top. With the thumb andsecondfinger of the right hand, he seizes a sufficient number of the top cards to be sure of having the selected ones all together, and lifts them up, at the same time moving his hand away from him so as to leave the pack unobstructed by the cards just raised. Then with the thumb andfirstfinger of the left hand, he takes up a similar packet of cards from the pack, leaving probably about a third of the pack still remaining on the table. Now comes the trick. The right hand packet is placed under the cards just raised by the left thumb and forefinger, and is immediately gripped by themiddlefinger andthumb of that hand. Meanwhile, the left-hand packet is taken by the right thumb and forefinger, and moved aside. The two packets have thus changed hands, the top cards being now in the left. In this position they are held by the left finger and thumb, whilst the right hand shuffles the second packet into the cards remaining on the table. This process is gone through several times and the cards appear to be thoroughly well shuffled. Nevertheless, it is evident that the top cards have remained intact throughout.
Before passing on to the third form of false shuffle, by means of which cards are put up or stocked, it is necessary at this point to refer to the device known as the 'end-bridge,' a thing which is commonly used at the present time to force the cut at a given point in the pack. Any false shuffle is manifestly useless without some resource of this kind. As the reader is doubtless aware, it is a common practice among card players, at the conclusion of the shuffle and before giving the pack to be cut, to part it at about the middle and place the lower half above the upper. This seems to have become quite the orthodox termination of any shuffle; just a final cut as it were to finish. It is in this final cut that the end-bridge is generally made. We will suppose that the stocked cards are at the top of the pack. The top half is taken by the thumb and second finger of the right hand and drawn off; the cards being held near thecorners at one end, the forefinger meanwhile resting upon them between the second finger and thumb. In the act of drawing off the cards they are pressed between the thumb and finger, so as to bend them slightly concave at the back between the corners by which they are held. The bottom half of the pack is then placed above the upper one, the curvature of which produces a slight division between the two halves at one end. The other end not having been tampered with it can be turned towards the players with impunity. The cards being levelled, they are laid on the table in such a position that the player who is to cut will take them by the ends; and it is almost certain that he will cut at the bridge.
By way of example, then, the French card-sharper's shuffle in its entirety would consist of the following movements. (1) The top cards are lifted by the right hand, and the second packet raised by the left. (2) The top packet is placed under the second one, and gripped by the left hand. (3) The right hand seizes the second packet, and takes it from above the top one, which remains held by the left thumb and finger. (4) The second packet is shuffled into the cards remaining on the table, and the top packet is dropped upon the whole. (5) The pack is parted by drawing off the upper half with the thumb and second finger of the right hand; at the same moment the bridge is made, the upper half is put under the lower, and the cards are given to be cut.Thus, both the shuffle and the bridge are included in one complete operation.
We now come to the modern methods of 'stocking,' or 'putting-up' hands. This, of course, includes the third form of false shuffle. The simplest method of stocking is accomplished in the act of picking up the cards from the table preparatory to shuffling, and is very useful in a game such as Nap. The player who is about to deal notes among the cards lying upon the table those which would provide him with a good hand. With each hand he seizes one of them and immediately after takes up as many indifferent cards as there are players besides himself. He has then two cards 'put up.' Again he picks up two more good cards in the same way, and follows up with the proper number of indifferent ones, as before. He has now four cards out of the five he requires. With one hand therefore he picks up the remaining card, with three others, and puts all the cards thus taken up into one hand. The rest of the pack may be picked up anyhow, care being taken to keep the arranged cards on top. Then comes the shuffle. The first thing to be done is to put on the top of the selected card, which is uppermost, a similar number of indifferent cards to that which is between each of the selected ones, viz., as many as there are players besides himself. Thus the cards he wants will come to him on the deal. The rest of the shuffle is immaterial, so longas the 'stock' is not interfered with. The end-bridge may be worked for the cut, and all being well, he will have the hand he prepared for himself. Some men can do this picking-up with incredible rapidity and without exciting the least suspicion on the part of their opponents.
Where the over-hand shuffle is used, the best way of putting up a hand is by means of the process which is called 'milking-down.' This is a manipulation which is both simple and effective. The cards required to be put up are placed all together at the bottom of the pack, which is then taken endways between the thumb and fingers of the left hand ready for shuffling, and the 'milking' commences. We will suppose the game to be Nap, and that three are playing. The dealer having put the selected cards at the bottom in the course of gathering the pack together, prepares to perform the over-hand shuffle as above indicated. With the thumb of his right hand he takes off one card from the top of the pack, whilst at the same moment and in the same movement the middle finger draws off one of the selected cards from the bottom. At this point then he has two cards in his right hand; one of those he has chosen, and an indifferent one from the top of the pack above it. But there are three players, so he must have two cards between each of his own and the next, therefore he draws off another from the top, over the two he already has in the right hand. Again he draws off together a card from thetop and bottom, and over these places another from the top. This is repeated until all the hand is put up, and then the remainder of the pack is shuffled on to his forefinger in the manner previously described in connection with the over-hand shuffle. The stock is brought to the top, the pack is parted, the bridge made, and the cards are given to be cut.
Milking-down was originally used by Faro-dealers for the purpose of putting up the high and low cards alternately. The high ones being put all together at the top of the pack, for instance, and the low ones at the bottom, they were drawn down in pairs with great rapidity and thus alternated. Nowadays, however, the process is used for putting up hands for most games.
It is in connection with the riffle that the most skilful putting-up is accomplished, but much practice and experience are required to enable the manipulation to be performed with certainty. In theory, however, the process is simple. It consists of riffling between the selected cards the proper number of indifferent ones. Suppose that in a game of Nap the required cards have been put at the top of the pack. The cards are divided and riffled, taking care that none are allowed to go between the selected ones except the first and second, which must have the proper number between them. If there are three players, this number will, of course, be two. All that is necessary to effect this is to hold up the topcard with one thumb, and the last two cards of the other half with the other thumb. The two cards are allowed to fall upon the second of the selected cards, and the top one is dropped over them. It is with the second and following riffles, however, that the difficulty comes in. In the second riffle, four cards have to be held up and two dropped under them. In the third riffle, seven cards have to be held up, and in the fourth, ten. The fifth riffle merely puts two cards above the top selected card, and the shuffle is complete. The great difficulty is to know that the right number of cards is held up each time, and that the right number is put between them. It seems almost impossible that it can be done with certainty, but there are plenty of sharps who can do it readily enough without any mistake whatever. In fact, some are so skilful with this shuffle that they can find any cards they please by looking at the turned-up corners, and place them in any position they please within the pack.
In the game of Poker, when the pack has been stocked for draft, either at the top or the bottom, after the cut the sharp will place the two halves together in the proper manner, but leaving a little break between them. Thus he is enabled to know when the stocked cards are being given off and who has them. Or he may manage to hold back any that would be of use to him. If the cards are held inclined slightly upwards, he mayfrequently be enabled to draw back the top card as in the 'second-deal,' and give off the next ones.
There is a single-handed pass sometimes used to bring the stock to the top, which is performed under cover of the right arm whilst reaching to the left. The cards are held upon a level with the table-top, and as the arm passes over them, those which are above the stock are pressed with the fingers of the left hand against the right elbow. Thus they are held for the moment whilst the others are drawn from beneath, and as the right arm returns, the stocked cards are brought to the top. In this way the entire operation is performed under cover of the arm, and is therefore undiscernible.
Where a confederate is available to cut the pack, there is a form of false cut which appears to pass muster in America pretty well. It consists of merely grasping the pack in both hands, lifting it off the table, and pulling it apart, so to speak. The half which comes from the bottom is drawn upwards, thus appearing to come from the top, in the same manner as the cards in the bottom-deal. At the same time, the top half is drawn downwards, appearing to come from the bottom. Then, when the two halves are put together in their original position, it looks as though the lower half had been put upon the upper. Quickly done, this ruse is fairly successful.
Another form of false cut is somewhat similar in effect to the French card-sharper's shuffle, and is used to retaina 'top stock' in its place. A third of the pack, or thereabouts, is taken off with the right hand, and the remainder is cut in two with the left. The top cards are now placed upon those which remain on the table, the second lot are thrown down beside them, and upon these the other two packets are placed as one, bringing the top cards into their original position. Thus, whilst the pack is really cut into three, the only effect of the cut is to bring the bottom cards into the middle; a result which is of no consequence where only a top stock is concerned.
We may conclude the present chapter with a description of the system of cheating known as 'Counting-down.' This is a method which is not by any means so familiar to the masses as those with which we have just been dealing. It is one of those devices which seem to lie within the borderland between honesty and dishonesty; although, when one understands its real nature, there is no question as to the fact that it reallyischeating, and nothing else. It is the most scientific mode of swindling, in games where only a few cards constitute a hand, that has ever been devised, and it is so good that it almost defies detection, even at the hands of an expert. It is just that one word 'almost,' however, which qualifies its absolute perfection. There is always some weak point in a trick, however good.
Counting down is one of those operations whichdepend more on memory than sleight of hand. It requires long practice and much skill, but the skill is rather mental than manipulative. It is necessary that the sharp who practises it should be able to memorise instantly as many cards as possible. Comparatively few persons can remember more than five cards at a glance. Not one in a thousand can remember ten. There are some, however, who can remember the order of a whole pack of fifty-two cards, after seeing them dealt out rather slowly. Needless to say there are not many individuals of the latter class. All, however, use some system of artificial memory. Without something of the kind, counting-down would be impracticable.
The object of this system, of course, is to enable the sharp to know the sequence of a certain number of cards which are to be introduced into the play, and thus to be certain of their value, and also of the hands in which they are to be found. The possession of this knowledge is of the utmost importance sometimes.
As a readily understood and familiar example, let us suppose that the sharp is engaged in a single-handed game of Nap, and that he can remember twelve cards, together with the order in which they occur. His first duty will be to note the manner in which his opponent usually cuts, whether near the middle of the pack, near the top or the bottom. Most people have some peculiarity in this way which may be relied on. Suppose thenthe sharp finds that the other man's cut is generally pretty well in the centre. When it is his turn to deal, in the act of shuffling he will place twelve cards in rapid succession at the bottom of the pack, at the same time holding the pack so that the faces of the cards are visible. He notes these twelve cards, and the order in which they occur. At the conclusion of the shuffle he leaves just so many cards over them as he thinks the other will take off in the cut; consequently, after cutting, those cards will be at the top or nearly so. If the sharp is fortunate the cut will come into the first one or two of them, and then when the cards are dealt, he knows by looking at his own hand precisely what cards his opponent holds. If his own hand will allow him to 'go more' than his opponent feels inclined to risk, he will do so, if not he allows his opponent to play. In either case he knows perfectly well what the result of the hand will be before a single card is put down. Of course if the case should be that he is playing against an unmistakable 'Nap' hand, and that he has no cards the skilful playing of which will prevent the other man from winning, he is bound to accept the inevitable. But it is obvious that the advantages he enjoys, compared with his antagonist, are enormous.
With a sharp who works the bottom-deal, the memorising of five cards only is sufficient. He notes the five cards and leaves them at the bottom of the pack which is given to be cut. After the cutting, he picks up thebottom half of the pack, leaving the other upon the table. If the five cards at the bottom are good ones he deals them to himself, but if, on the contrary, they are little ones, which would make a bad hand, he deals them to his opponent. He will always let the opponent have them unless they are exceptionally good, because it is worth more than half the game to know what cards one has to contend with.
It is in the game of 'Poker,' however, that counting-down is of the greatest assistance. The cards are dealt round five to each player, and we will suppose it is the sharp's turn to deal next. He throws his hand, face downwards, on the table, and puts the rest of the pack on top of it. He therefore knows the five bottom cards of the pack, having memorised his hand. Even though some of the other players may understand counting-down, no one will suspect that any trickery is in progress, as the whole proceeding is quite usual and perfectly natural.
Having the whole of the cards in a heap in front of him, the sharp now takes them up to straighten or level them, somewhat ostentatiously keeping their faces turned well away from him, so that he cannot see a single card. He does not overdo this appearance of honesty however. That would be almost as fatal as an appearance of cheating.
The cards being straightened, the shuffle has now to be accomplished. In this case it will be one of the second,or partial order. The sharp takes good care, in riffling down or what not, to leave undisturbed the five cards he has memorised, and finally to have them in such a position within the pack, that the cut and deal will leave them at the top. His object, of course, is to have the choice of those five cards in the draft. If he has been fortunate in his manipulation, the card which comes to him on the last round of the deal will be one of those five. In that case he knows the value of the two or three top cards, and looking at his hand he can tell whether either of them will be of use to him when it comes to his turn to draw. If so, in giving off the draft to the other players, he may, if opportunity serves, hold back the card or cards he requires. Then the other hands being complete, he can throw away a corresponding number of indifferent cards from his hand and take the selected ones for himself. Generally speaking, this method will enable him to retain and utilise a card which, otherwise, he would have thrown away as being useless, and very often enable him to make 'two pair.'
It is manifest that however skilfully this may be done, there is a strong element of uncertainty attaching to the result. The player who cuts the pack may not divide it in the right place by a card or two, and therefore it might happen that the whole of the five cards may be distributed in the deal. But it is bound to come right sometimes, and then it is worth all the trouble and annoyance of theprevious failures; but whether it is successful or not, it is done as a matter of routine, and if only for the sake of practice, every time the sharp has to deal. He cannot exercise himself too much in such a difficult operation. Still there is a good bit of chancework about it which is not at all acceptable to the sharp, and to obviate this two sharps will often work in secret partnership. The dealer, having memorised his own hand, which he has plenty of time to do thoroughly, waits until his partner's cards are done with. When that moment arrives, the accomplice passes his cards to the dealer in such a way that their faces can be seen. These must be remembered at a glance. The dealer has now ten cards to work with instead of five, and thus the chances are far more than proportionately greater. Some of the known cards aresureto be at the top of the pack, ready for the draft, and looking at the last card which has fallen to him on the deal, the sharp can tell what they are. If, in addition, it is the confederate who cuts the cards, of course the game becomes too strong to be beaten. He is sure to cut the pack at the right place.
If the sharp is a fine shuffler, with a good memory, well-trained in this class of work, he can dispense with an accomplice, and do quite as well without one. Supposing it to be his turn to deal next, he looks at his hand, and if the cards he holds are not of much consequence, he 'passes,' that is, he stands out of the game for the timebeing. Meanwhile he gathers up the pack and discards, and keeping the faces of the cards turned away from him he evens them up in readiness for the deal. Then he waits until the two or three hands that are being played are called or shown up. With a glance, he remembers as many of these cards as he conveniently can, places them either at the top or bottom of the pack and 'holds' them during the shuffle, arranging their position in the pack as in the former cases.
The last card which comes to him on the deal being one of these, he knows the sequence of several of the top cards which remain in the pack. Consequently he not only knows what he is giving off in the draft to others, but also what remains for him when it is his turn to draw. If, then, it suits him best to discard, as to which he does not stand in doubt as the other players do, he throws away according to the nature of the cards he will have to draw from the pack to replace his discards. It really is just the same thing as though he had two hands dealt to him instead of one. He has the opportunity of making his selection from at least twice as many cards as either of his opponents.
Unless the reader should happen to be himself a high-class sharp, he can have no idea of how well this is done by some men who make it their speciality. It is a method which renders a good shuffler—expressive term—with a good system of artificial memory, well-nigh invincible atsuch a game as Poker. Counting-down is simple, when you can do it; it is impossible of detection by ordinary players, and best of all,even smart gamblers will stand the work. After that no more need be said about it.
From the contents of this chapter, the expert reader will see that in so far as manipulation pure and simple is concerned, the sharp of to-day is in a position very little better than that of his prototype of fifty years ago. If we except the improved methods of 'stocking' and so on, which have resulted from the introduction of new shuffles and certain methods of preparing the cards, there are hardly any new developments to record.
That this should be so, and indeed must of necessity be so, will be evident to anyone who has made a study of card-tricks. There are only certain manipulations possible in connection with fifty-two pieces of pasteboard. Generations of keen intellects have already made a study of their possibilities; and like the 'old poets, fostered under friendlier skies,' these have stolen all the best ideas from their unhappy successors. And the worst of it is the ideas have become more or less common property.
To invent a new deception in the way of the manipulation of cards is for all the world like trying to make a new proposition in 'Euclid.' That ancient humb—philosopher I should say—has covered the whole ground; much to the disgust of that hypothetical example of encyclopædicinformation known as 'any schoolboy.' In our time we have all of us tempered our regret that so great a philosopher should ever die, with the far greater regret that he should ever have lived. His loss would have been 'any schoolboy's' infinite gain. Well, man is born to Euclid as the sparks fly upward, and there is no dodging the difficulty.
It is just the same in the fraudulent manipulation of cards. All that can be done has been done. If it were not so the sharp would be the gainer, therefore it is better as it is.
Nowadays, however, it is quite possible to be a first-rate sharp without being capable of performing the simplest feat of dexterity. This sounds very much like saying that a man might be a thorough mathematician without knowing the multiplication-table, but the cases are not exactly upon all fours. It is quite possible to reason logically without having made the acquaintance of that maid of mystery 'Barbara'; and it is quite possible in like manner to be able to cheat without having recourse to manipulation. It is a thing which is not necessary, and more often than not it is attended with the risk of detection.
The sharp has gone further afield in the augmentation of his resources. He has pressed into his service every device that human ingenuity can conceive or rascality execute, every contrivance that skill can produce,and even the forces of Nature herself have been made to serve his ends.
Meanwhile the unfortunate dupe has been laying the flattering unction to his soul, that given the understanding of certain primitive forms of manipulation, he has nothing else to fear. Much he knows about it!
There is no fool like the fool who imagines himself wise, and there is no dupe like the 'fly flat,'—the man who 'thinks he knows a thing or two.'
Well, it is not the fault of this book if he is not henceforth a wiser and a richer man.
The words which head this chapter are hard words. One cannot deny it. They are intended to be so. Being so, they belong to the class of utterances which, according to the sages, 'break no bones.' This may be true enough even of collusion and conspiracy. But in all conscience, or the lack of it, these have broken hearts and fortunes enough to compensate for any amount of merely physical incapacity.
There cannot be the slightest doubt that a large proportion of the cheating which goes on, in what is called polite society, is accomplished by these means. The high position of the players is, unfortunately, no guarantee of fidelity. One may be cheated anywhere, even in exclusive clubs of the mostrecherchécharacter, as many know to their cost. Practically, there is no high and dry rock upon which the gambler can perch, and say to the tide of cheating—'Thus far shalt thou come, and no farther.' He is not safe anywhere, for he can never tell who may not be tempted, at some timeor other, to resort to dishonest practices. The sharp is not always a professional; he may, now and then, be an amateur. Where the stakes are heavy, the temptation to take an unfair advantage of an opponent is occasionally too great for some to resist; especially where no risk of detection is run in so doing. Accidental circumstances will sometimes give a player overwhelming advantages in the play, of which none but he are aware; and who shall say that he will not avail himself of the opportunity which chance has thrown in his way? Against this sort of thing, however, there is no other safeguard than the watchfulness of the players. Where, then, is the 'game,' the amusement, if one has to play, armed at all points, as it were, and living in dread of pickpockets?
It is not with this sporadic kind of cheating, however, that we now have to deal, but with the systematic banding together of individuals to swindle at play. As a notable example of this kind of thing, the reader will do well to peruse the recital of the following incident, which occurred a few winters ago at one of the leading clubs in the West End of London.
At this club a very favourite game was écarté, played generally 'à la galerie.' That is to say, the bystanders were allowed to bet among themselves, or with the players, as to the result of the game. In this case, the lookers-on form themselves into two parties, onebehind each player, and lay wagers upon the chances of their respective champions.
The doings of this club, then, afforded an opportunity for cheating which was too good to be missed. Certain unprincipled members therefore proposed, and managed to get elected, two clever French card-sharpers. The method of procedure adopted was to place these two men opposed to each other at a card-table, and let them play écarté. As large a 'gallery' as possible was assembled, and then the fun began. There was nothing of refinement or delicacy of operation in the method employed. All that took place was simply that one or the other of the players lost to order. According to how the betting ran, that is to say, according to the player whose winning would put the most money into the pockets of the conspirators, so would the result of the game be. Certain signs were made to the players, unobserved of the outsiders, and in response to these signs the game was made to go in one direction or the other.
The favourite plan appeared to be for all the conspirators to station themselves behind one of the men, and, of course, other members of the club who wished to join in had to take up their position behind the other. The secret brotherhood then made as many bets with those across the table as they could. When this had been effected, their player was sure to win. If the cardswere not running favourably to him, he would put up hands for himself, make the bridge, and give the cards to be cut. No doubt, out of pure courtesy, his opponent would obligingly cut at the required place. At the end of the evening the proceeds were divided among the conspirators.
Well, this little game had gone on for some time, and had doubtless been the means of putting in circulation a good deal of capital which otherwise would have remained locked up, when a most unforeseen and regrettable incident occurred. Among the newly-elected members of the club was one who had some little knowledge of sleight-of-hand. Chancing to be a spectator of the proceedings one evening, he at once 'tumbled to the bridge.' He might well do so, for, as one of the fraternity remarked, the players had latterly become so secure in the ignorance of the members that, owing to their carelessness, the structure referred to had become not so much a bridge as a veritable 'Arc de Triomphe.' Through the enlightenment which was thus brought about, the matter came to be laid before the committee. The result was that Écarté à la Galerie was prohibited. Those who are familiar with club matters will doubtless remember the circumstance, and know the club to which allusion is made.
A very necessary adjunct to collusion of almost any kind is some system of secret telegraphy. With such asystem in operation between two or more players who are in secret partnership, there are many games in which winning can be made a certainty. The telegraphy, of course, is seldom of a character which would permit those acquainted with it to indulge in secret gossip, but for the most part consists of signs which indicate the names of the cards. Generally speaking there will be two classes of indications, one for suit, and one for value. For instance, if the player who is signalling is seen to lay his right hand open upon the table, that may serve to indicate hearts; if the hand, instead of lying flat, is resting upon its side, that may mean spades; if clenched flat on the table, clubs may be signified; and finally, if clenched and thumb upwards, that may denote diamonds. The values of the cards are no less easy to indicate. If the telegraphist looks upwards, that may mean an ace; if downwards, a king; if to the left, a queen; if straight in front of him, a knave; if to the right, a ten; with head on one side, and looking upward, a nine; ditto, and looking to the right, an eight; ditto, and to the left a seven, and so on through the whole number. There is no difficulty in arranging a system of this kind, to be worked either by word or sign, and such systems if carefully thought out are very difficult to detect.
Suppose two partners at whist are in collusion and one of them is about to lead. The other may desire him to lead clubs. He may, therefore, address to anyone inthe room a sentence beginning, 'Can you tell me——' The initial letter of the sentence indicates the suit which he desires his partner to lead. If he wanted diamonds he would say 'Do you know——' &c. If it was necessary to call for hearts he would observe, 'Have you seen——' &c. Lastly, if spades were in requisition he would ask some question beginning, 'Shall you have——' These things are all very simple, but they mean a great deal, sometimes, in a game of cards.
Another system of signalling sometimes adopted is to indicate the fact of certain cards being held by the position in which the cards are laid upon the table. The person signalling, having looked at his hand, wishes to let his accomplice know that he holds a certain card of importance in the game. Therefore, whilst waiting till the other players have sorted their hands, he closes up his cards for the moment, and lays them before him on the table. The manner of their disposition will give the required cue, or, as it is called, 'office.' The end of the cards farthest from the operator may be taken to represent a kind of pointer, which is set opposite to some particular figure upon an imaginary dial, supposed to be drawn upon the table. Several cards can be indicated in this way, and for others additional factors can be introduced. For instance, the cards may be spread a little, the top card may project a little to one side or over one end, or the operator may keep his fingers restingupon the cards. In fact, the variety of signals is infinite. From the laying down of a cigar to the taking up of a glass of wine, from the opening of the mouth to the stroking of the chin, every movement, however simple and unsuspicious, can be made the means of cheating at almost any game. A code of signals to indicate every card in the pack, and no more difficult to decipher than the Morse code in telegraphy, can be arranged by anyone in five minutes. Indeed, the Morse code itself can be used in connection with what the French sharps call 'La dusse invisible,' a system of signalling to an accomplice by pressure of the foot under the table. In using this system care must, of course, be taken not to tread on the wrong person's toes.
An instance of card-sharping, involving the use of secret telegraphy, once came under the author's notice, in connection with the projected exposure of a noted card-sharp. The circumstances of the case arose in the following manner.
It is well known that one of the most able and uncompromising among exposers of fraud at the present day is Mr. Henry Labouchere, M.P., the Editor and Proprietor of 'Truth.' In the columns of that widely read and influential publication, the trenchant criticisms and fearless utterances of 'Scrutator' have done yeoman's service in the cause of truth and justice.
The author has had the privilege upon several occasionsof being associated with Mr. Labouchere in the running to earth of impostors of various kinds, and one of those occasions was in connection with the case of the sharp above referred to. Some of the details will doubtless occur to the minds of those who recollect the name of the man known as Lambri Pasha. It is advisable to say 'known as,' for whether his real name was anything resembling that there is nothing to show. If there is one thing which one may be inclined to believe more than another, it is that although Lambri the man may have been, Pasha he certainly was not.
This man Lambri, then, an Italian by birth and a sharp by profession, had carried on his operations upon so large a scale as to bring himself prominently before the notice of 'Scrutator.' As usual in such cases, 'Scrutator' proceeded to make short work of him.
At the time referred to, this Lambri happened to have a quarrel with one of his accomplices, and in revenge this man revealed to Mr. Labouchere the entiremodus operandiof the means used by his employer to cheat the gamblers in those high circles to which he had obtained access.
This being the case, the author was approached by Mr. Labouchere with a view to arranging a plan of action whereby the arch swindler might be caught red-handed, and the exposure made complete. The following scheme was accordingly devised. The author, in theguise of a country squire supposed to be of great wealth, was to be presented to Lambri, and invited to join in the game of baccarat, specially arranged for the 'staging' of the little drama which was to follow.
Needless to say it was not proposed that the author, although armed, should be alone in a venture which promised to result in violence of a more or less pronounced type. Among the other guests it was arranged to have some whose daily avocations were not altogether unconnected with Scotland Yard.
Lambri's system was an exceedingly simple one. It was worked with the assistance of a confederate, and baccarat was the game principally favoured. In this game three packs of cards are used in combination, forming one large pack of 156 cards. It is obviously impossible to hold this bulky pack in the hands with any degree of convenience whilst the cards are being shuffled; therefore the shuffle is accomplished by standing the cards on edge upon the table with their faces turned away from the dealer, and in this position they are mixed together. Lambri, having taken the 'bank,' would proceed to shuffle the cards in the manner described. During this operation, and as the various cards were brought to the front, the confederate, who had taken up a convenient position, would indicate to his principal their value by means of a code of signals arranged for that purpose. From the explanations already given thereader will have no difficulty in deducing the manner in which the cards were put up for the advantage of the 'bank.'
In order to detect this manœuvre, then, it would be necessary to watch the proceedings from the commencement, note the arrangement adopted, and at the right moment give the signal for seizing both cards and dealer.
Preparations having been made for carrying this plan into effect, and all due precautions having been taken, it was hoped that Lambri would quietly walk into the snare which had been set for him. 'The best laid schemes,' however, 'gang aft agley.' Whether the confederate had played fast and loose with both sides, which is more than probable, or whether information had leaked out through some other channel, it is impossible to say. Certain it is, however, that Lambri obtained an inkling of what was in progress, and took steps—or rather, 'made tracks'—accordingly. The day previous to that decided upon for the exposure the accomplice received a telegram from Paris informing him that the object of our kind attentions, owing to pressure of important business, would be detained there for some weeks.
There can be no doubt that the affairs which so suddenly called him to Paris were both pressing and important; for, to all appearance, they have occupied his attention ever since. That appointment has never been kept, and, so far as can be ascertained, he has never fromthat date to this put in an appearance in England. To all his former friends and acquaintances he is 'lost to sight,' though, to a great many of them, he undoubtedly is 'to memory dear,' andverydear.
A sharp may generally be trusted to arrive at a sound decision in all matters affecting his own interests; and it certainly cannot be said that 'Lambri Pasha' has proved himself to be an exception to the rule.
At baccarat collusion and conspiracy are generally used for the purpose of 'rooking' some particular individual of the pronounced 'Juggins' type, and the plan of operation is somewhat as follows.
We will suppose that the field of action is the card-room of some small club, where baccarat is played clandestinely, and for heavy stakes. Among the members who are addicted to this pastime there is one youngster with more money than brains, and several of the reverse characteristics. Half a dozen of these latter habitués of the club will sit around a table prepared for the game in an upper chamber, waiting the advent of their victim. Upon the table in front of the dealer is the shoe containing the proper number of packs: the cards being arranged, we will say, to give six winning coups to the bank, and then to lose right out to the end. They are not playing—far from it, although the table may be strewn with money. Theirs is a waiting game for the present, and they are passing the time as best they can.
When the dupe arrives at the club it is whispered to him that there is a little game in progress upstairs. His arrival is signalled to the conspirators, and by the time the innocent fledgling reaches the room, there is a game apparently in full blast. The new-comer sees that the bank is winning every time. At the end of the six winning coups the dealer says he has won enough, or makes some other excuse for retiring from the game. A new dealer is therefore required, and it does not need much persuasion to induce the 'mug' to take the bank. There is a superstition to the effect that banks which commence luckily for the dealer will continue so to the end, and the unfortunate youth never suspects that it is a 'put-up job' for him. Consequently he sits down to play, and naturally he loses everything to the end of the deal. The 'Juggins,' however jubilant he may have been, soon finds that he has no cause for rejoicing. You see, when a man takes the bank in the middle of a game he cannot have the cards shuffled, but must take them just as they lie on the table, and continue the game from the point at which the last dealer left it. If proceedings of this kind are not to be stigmatised as wholesale robbery, it is difficult to see how they are to be described.
The most common method of cheating at poker in clubs and private houses alike, but particularly in good society, is one which is accomplished by means of collusion, andin connection with that process of the game known as 'raising out.'
In poker, the bets of the players are raised in rotation around the table, and the players who wish to remain 'in'—that is to say, those who do not wish to forfeit what they have already staked—must all have equal stakes in the pool. Now, unless a man has a particularly good hand he is not disposed to risk too much upon its chance of winning; consequently, when the stakes have risen to a certain amount, he will stand out rather than go beyond what he has already risked.
Two men, then, in secret partnership, upon sitting down to play, will contrive to get the man with most money, or the best player (their greatest antagonist) between them. Therefore, if these two men systematically raise their bets, whether they have good hands or not, they must eventually reach the point at which the other players will 'go out.' If the man between them wishes to remain in, he must make good, or, in other words, bring his stakes up to an amount equal to those of the conspirators. This he may do for some time, but sooner or later the game will become 'too hot' for him and he will go out. He is between two fires, and stands no chance whatever. Then, everyone else having gone out, the game is in the hands of the two sharps, and they can finish it in any way they think best. They may keep on raising each other for a time, until at last one of them refuses to stake another 'chip,' and throwsaway his hand, and then the other simply takes the pool. Or one of them may 'call' the other, and upon seeing the hand may throw his own away without showing it, the inference being that it is not so good as that of his supposed antagonist. There is really no need for the other players to see either of the hands. They cannot be called, because one or the other of them is always raising his stakes, and until the stakes are made good without anyone raising, the call is not complete and no hands are shown. Then, when all the other players are 'raised out,' there is nobody left to call upon them to show their hands. At the end of the evening, of course, they divide the spoil.
These things may all appear to be very simple, but they are extremely difficult of detection by outsiders. Indeed, it is the very simplicity of collusion that constitutes the great charm of its employment, and the great safeguard against its detection. Unlike manipulation, it can be accomplished by anyone and gives far less indication of its existence. The only drawback to it is that where there is a conspiracy there is always a chance of rogues falling out, and honest men being put in possession of the truth.
In every kind of game, and in every department of trickery, collusion has been utilised as a ready means of arriving at the consummation of the sharp's desires. It is seldom, indeed, that a scheme of any magnitude isdevised without more than one person concerned in it; and the accomplices have assumed every kind of guise, tinkers, tailors, soldiers, sailors, waiters, club-porters, card-canvassers, and even officers of justice. There is no end to the disguises in which these individuals have appeared, and apparently no limit to their ingenuity.
One of the most immense frauds ever perpetrated in connection with sharping, and in which the fewest persons were concerned, was that recorded by Houdin. At the outset it was entirely conceived and executed by one sharp alone, although another took part in it at a later stage, much to the disappointment of the original promoter of the scheme. As this incident is of interest, and exhibits in a striking manner the possibilities of cheating which exist at all times and in all places, the reader shall have the benefit of its perusal. Although the events happened many years ago, the story is not very well known, and is well worthy of retelling.
At the date of the narrative, Havana, according to the historian, was the place most addicted to gambling of any in the world. As he also observed, that was not saying a little. And it was in that haven of delight that the occurrences related took place.
A Spanish sharp, named Bianco, purchased in his own country a tremendous stock of playing-cards; and, in view of the undertaking in which he was about to embark, he opened every one of the packs, marked all the cards,and sealed them up again in their wrappers. This he did so skilfully that there was no evidence of the fact that the packages had ever been tampered with. The stupendous feat involved in a proceeding of this kind being successfully accomplished, the cards were shipped off to Havana and there disposed of to the card-dealers at a ruinous sacrifice. So good indeed were these cards, and so cheap, that in a very little while the dealers could not be induced to purchase those of any other make. Thus after a time there were hardly any cards circulating in the place other than those which had been falsified by Bianco.
The sharp, it may be imagined, was not long in following upon the track of his cards; and being a man of good address, he contrived to obtain introductions into the best society. He played everywhere, of course, and where he played he won. Hardly ever being called upon to use any cards but his own, it is not surprising that he should rapidly acquire wealth among people whose chief recreation appeared to be gambling. To avert suspicion, however, he was careful to complain constantly of the losses he had sustained.
Among the various clubs in Havana was one which was of the most exclusive kind. The committee was so vigilant, and such great precautions were taken to prevent the admission of doubtful characters, that hitherto it had been kept free from the contamination of cheating. Intothis club, however, Bianco contrived to effect an entrance, and carried on his operations therein with much success. He was destined, notwithstanding the zeal of the committee, to remain alone in the field but a very short time. Another sharp, a Frenchman this time, contrived also to obtain admission to the club; and he, too, set to work to prospect the country, thinking that he had possessed himself of a gold-mine as yet unexploited.
Accordingly, this second adventurer, Laforcade by name, seized a favourable opportunity of appropriating a quantity of the club cards. These he took home with him for the purpose of marking them, intending to return them when marked to the stock from which they had been taken. One may imagine the man's surprise upon opening the packs to find that every card had already been marked.
Evidently, then, somebody had been before him, and Laforcade determined to find out who it could be. He made inquiries as to where the cards were obtained, and, purchasing some at the same place, found that these also were marked. In fact, every pack that he could procure had been tampered with in like manner. Here then was a gigantic swindle, and he determined to profit by it. He would let the other man do all the work, buthewould share in the profits. If the other man, whoever he might be, would not listen to reason, he would threaten to hand him over to the police.
Having arrived at this decision, he set to work to watch the play of the various members of the club, and, naturally, the invariable good fortune of Bianco could not fail to attract his attention. Keeping strict watch upon that gentleman's proceedings, Laforcade soon arrived at the conclusion that Bianco, and no other, was the man of whom he was in search. He therefore took an early opportunity of engaging his brother-swindler in a quiet game of écarté, whilst no other members of the club were present.
The game was played, and Bianco won, as a matter of course. Then, as usual, the winner asked his opponent if he was satisfied, or whether he would prefer to have his revenge in another game. Much to his surprise, however, instead of saying simply whether he preferred to play again or not, the loser coolly rested his elbows on the table, and regarding his adversary composedly, gave him to understand that the entire secret of the cheerful little deception which was being practised was in his possession. This, of course, came rather as a bomb-shell into Bianco's camp, and reduced him at once to a condition in which any terms of compromise would be acceptable, in preference to exposure and imprisonment.
Matters having arrived at this point, Laforcade proposed terms upon which he was willing to come to an understanding with the Spaniard. These were,briefly, that Bianco should continue his system of plunder, on condition that he handed over to his fellow-cheat one-half of the proceeds. These terms were agreed to, and upon that basis of settlement the agreement was entered into.
For some time after this all went well with the two swindlers. Laforcade established himself in luxury, and gave his days to pleasure. Bianco ran all the risk; the other had nothing to do but sit at home and receive his share of the profits. It is true he could keep no check upon his associate, to see that he divided the spoil equitably; but, holding the sword of Damocles over him, he could always threaten him with exposure if the profits were not sufficiently great.
At length, however, Bianco began to tire of the arrangement, which perhaps was only natural. Besides, the supply of marked cards was beginning to run short, and could not be depended upon much longer. This being so, the prime mover of the plot having won as much as he possibly could, promptly vacated the scene of his exploits.
The unfortunate Laforcade thus found himself, as the Americans say, 'left.' The prospect was not altogether a pleasant one for him. He had acquired expensive tastes which he might no longer be enabled to indulge; he had accustomed himself to luxuries he could no longer hope to enjoy. He had not theskill of the departed Bianco; yet, nevertheless, he was compelled to (metaphorically) roll up his sleeves and work for his living. Things were not so bad as they might have been. There was still a good number of falsified cards in use; so he determined to make the best possible use of his opportunities while they remained.
He therefore set to work with ardour, and success largely attended his efforts. At last, however, the crash came. He was detected in cheating, and the whole secret of the marked cards was brought to light.
Even in this unfortunate predicament Laforcade's good-fortune, strange to say, did not desert him. He was taken before the Tribunal, tried, andacquitted. Absolutely nothing could be proved against him. It is true the cards were marked, but then, so were nearly all the others in Havana. Laforcade did not mark them, as was proved in the evidence. He did not import them. To all intents and purposes he had nothing to do with them whatever. It could not even be proved that he knew of the cards being marked at all. Thus the case against him broke down utterly, and he got off scot free. It is, nevertheless, presumable that he did not long remain in that part of the world. As to what became of Bianco, nothing is known. Possibly his record concluded with the familiar words 'lived happily ever after'; but most probably not. The end of such men is seldom a happy one.
The recital of the above-mentioned circumstances will serve to accentuate the contention that it is impossible wholly to guard against cheating. Here was a case in which the utmost caution was observed, in order to exclude cheats and impostors from a club; and yet it is seen that, within a very short time, two men of the sharp persuasion contrived to effect an entrance. If this is possible in the case of a club, where there is not only a committee to investigate thebona fidesof every applicant for membership, but also a large body of members presumably alive to their own interests who have to be satisfied of the fitness of the candidates for election, what chance has a mere private individual of protecting himself against the sharp and his insidious ways? Those two men, Bianco and Laforcade, must have had friends among the inhabitants of Havana, friends who would have been horrified to know the real character of those whose intimacy they found so agreeable. Among the dupes of those two adventurers there must have been some who would have resented bitterly any aspersion of the honesty of their associates. We have seen the return they gained for their friendship, and what has happened once may happen again.
There is only one course to pursue of which it can be said that it is absolutely safe. It is an extremely objectionable one, no doubt; but we are speaking, just now, of absolute safety. There is nothing for it but tosuspect your best friend, if he is a gambler. The desire for gain affects equally the high and the low. The instinct of theft is rife alike in rich and poor. To use a colloquialism, all are tarred with the same brush. The only difference is that what is called stealing in the poor starving wretch who takes a loaf, to save the parish the expense of a funeral, becomes, in the case of his more fortunate and richer fellow-sinner, merely a little intellectual peculiarity, which is dignified with the name of kleptomania. The poor man envies the rich man his wealth; the rich man envies the poor man his solitary ewe lamb. Instances of this kind have never been wanting at any time in the world's history, and even in matters of everyday life; but once a man becomes a gambler, there is every prospect that his desire for gain will eventually overmaster all the finer feelings of his nature. You doubt it? Well, search the columns of your newspaper, and every day you shall find at least one case where some foolish fellow has stolen property, or money, entrusted to his care, and has devoted the proceeds of his theft to gambling purposes. There is every reason in the world for suspecting anyone of dishonesty who is found to have taken to gambling. If it is not so, then all history lies, and past experience counts for nothing.
Closely allied to the subject of conspiracy is that of the maintenance of places in which gambling is systematicallycarried on, in defiance of the law, and in spite of the utmost watchfulness of the police. It is true that one of the most familiar head-lines upon the newspaper placards is: 'Raid on a Club! The accused at Bow Street.' Every week our attention is attracted by some announcement of that kind, made in letters six inches high. But we hardly ever give the matter a second thought; the whole thing is too common an occurrence. Yet not one tithe of these gambling-dens is ferreted out. Crushed here to-day, they spring up there to-morrow. They are perennial. Like the phœnix, they arise from their own ashes—but under another name. And where the players are to be found, there will the sharps be gathered together. That is a thing which goes without saying, and is open to no manner of doubt.
In these cases, of course, both sharps and flats are drawn together by one common bond of union—that of defeating the aim of the law for the suppression of gaming-houses. The dupe merely sees in the efforts of the Government to protect him from the consequences of his folly an unwarrantable interference with the liberty of the subject. Therefore, he conspires with the sharp to run counter to the law, and thus plays right into the hands of his natural enemy. That he suffers in consequence is no one's fault but his own; unfortunately, it is not he alone who suffers. Those who are nearest, and should be dearest, to him are those who suffer most.
The devices resorted to by the occupants of clandestine gaming-houses in order to conceal all traces of the appliances used for the purpose of gambling would fill many volumes in their description, but as they do not form part and parcel of our subject we cannot enter into an account of them. Probably one of the most ingenious ideas ever conceived for the immediate removal of all signs of gaming apparatus in the event of a police raid, was that which was actually utilised at a so-called club a good many years ago. The plan was briefly this. Upon the fire in the card-room a large kettle of water was kept constantly boiling, ostensibly for the purpose of diluting the ardent liquors imbibed by the members. The whole of the gaming utensils, dice-boxes and everything else, were made of one of the alloys known as fusible metals, which melt at a lower temperature than boiling water. An alloy of bismuth, tin, lead and cadmium can be made to melt at a far lower temperature than that of boiling water. In the event of a raid being made upon the club, then, the whole of the appliances were put into the kettle, where they at once melted, and even though any one looked in the kettle during the search there was nothing to be seen.
It is in places of this kind where collusion and conspiracy are most rampant. Those who have the ability to devise methods of cheating the police may well be supposed to have sufficient ingenuity to cheat the players.Those whomustgamble, therefore, should be very wary when they entrust themselves and their money to the tender mercies of the society encountered at such resorts. With this word of caution we will bring the present chapter to a conclusion.