But Campbell evidently loved the game for itself.
Of course it is only if you have a passion for the business by which you earn your living that you can make a success of it.
The stakes were nothing to him and he played all day and every day.
It fascinated me to see the way in which he dealt the cards, very slowly, with his delicate hands.
His eyes seemed to bore through the back of each one.
He drank heavily, but remained quiet and self-controlled.
His face was expressionless.
I judged him to be a perfect card-player and I wished that I could see him at work.
It increased my esteem for him to see that he could take what was only a relaxation so seriously.
I parted with the pair at Victoria and concluded that I should never see them again.
I set about sorting my impressions and made notes of the various points that I thought would prove useful.
When I arrived in New York I found an invitation to luncheon at the Ritz with an old friend of mine.
When I went she said to me:
“It’s quite a small party.
A man is coming whom I think you’ll like.
He’s a prominent banker; he’s bringing a friend with him.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when I saw coming up to us Campbell and Peterson.
The truth flashed across me: Campbell really was an opulent banker; Peterson really was a distinguished engineer; they were not card-sharpers at all.
I flatter myself I kept my face, but as I blandly shook hands with them I muttered under my breath furiously:
“Impostors!”