As his
wrist went back by fractions of an inch, his fingers were forced
to relax. I knew the trick. It was the scientific way to open a
clenched fist. As the tendons refused to stretch any farther, his
fingers straightened, and a murderous looking blackjack clattered
to the floor.
All was confusion. Money which was on the various tables
disappeared as if by magic. Cards were whisked away as if a ghost
had taken them. In a moment there was no more evidence of gambling
than is afforded by any roomful of men, so easy was it to hide the
paraphernalia, or, rather, lack of paraphernalia of stuss.
It was the custom, I knew, for criminals, after they had made a
haul to retire into such places as these stuss parlors, not only
to spend the proceeds of their robberies, but for protection. Even
though they were unmercifully fleeced by the gamblers, they might
depend on them to warn of the approach of the "bulls" and if
possible count on being hidden or spirited off to safety.
Apparently we had come just at a time when there were some
criminals in hiding among the players.
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