Even as Bond drank in the warm elegance of the scene, some of the groups began to break up. There was a drift towards the door accompanied by an exchange of challenges, side-bets, and exhortations to hurry up and get down to business. Sir Hugo Drax, his hairy red face shining with cheerful anticipation, came towards them with Meyer in his wake.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ he said jovially as he reached their table. ‘Are the lambs ready for the slaughter and the geese for the plucking?’ He grinned and in wolfish pantomime drew a finger across his throat. ‘We’ll go ahead and lay out the axe and the basket. Made your wills?’
‘Be with you in a moment,’ said M. edgily. ‘You go along and stack the cards.’
Drax laughed. ‘We shan’t need any artificial aids,’ he said. ‘Don’t be long.’ He turned and made for the door. Meyer enveloped them in an uncertain smile and followed him.
M. grunted. ‘We’ll have coffee and brandy in the card room,’ he said to Bond. ‘Can’t smoke here. Now then. Any final plans?’
‘I’ll have to fatten him up for the kill, so please don’t worry if I seem to be betting high,’ said Bond. ‘We’ll just have to play our normal game till the time comes. When it’s his deal, we’ll have to be careful. Of course, he can’t alter the cards and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t deal us good hands, but he’s bound to bring off some pretty remarkable coups. Do you mind if I sit on his left?’
‘No,’ said M. ‘Anything else?’
Bond reflected for a moment. ‘Only one thing, sir,’ he said. ‘When the time comes, I shall take a white handkerchief out of my coat pocket. That will mean that you are about to be dealt a Yarborough. Would you please leave the bidding of that hand to me?’
6 | CARDS WITH A STRANGER
Drax and Meyer were waiting for them. They were leaning back in their chairs, smoking Cabinet Havanas.
On the small tables beside them there was coffee and large balloons of brandy. As M. and Bond came up, Drax was tearing the paper cover off a new pack of cards. The other pack was fanned out across the green baize in front of him.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Drax. He leant forward and cut a card. They all followed suit. Drax won the cut and elected to stay where he was and take the red cards.
Bond sat down on Drax’s left.
M. beckoned to a passing waiter. ‘Coffee and the club brandy,’ he said. He took out a thin black cheroot and offered one to Bond who accepted it. Then he picked up the red cards and started to shuffle them.
‘Stakes?’ asked Drax, looking at M. ‘One and One? Or more? I’ll be glad to accommodate you up to Five and Five.’
‘One and One’ll be enough for me,’ said M. ‘James?’
Drax cut in, ‘I suppose your guest knows what he’s in for?’ he asked sharply.
Bond answered for M. ‘Yes,’ he said briefly. He smiled at Drax. ‘And I feel rather generous tonight. What would you like to take off me?’
‘Every penny you’ve got,’ said Drax cheerfully. ‘How much can you afford?’
‘I’ll tell you when there’s none left,’ said Bond. He suddenly decided to be ruthless. ‘I’m told that Five and Five is your limit. Let’s play for that.’
Almost before the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. £50 a hundred! £500 side-bets! Four bad rubbers would be double his income for a year. If something went wrong he’d look pretty stupid. Have to borrow from M. And M. wasn’t a particularly rich man. Suddenly he saw that this ridiculous game might end in a very nasty mess. He felt the prickle of sweat on his forehead. That damned benzedrine. And, for him of all people to allow himself to be needled by a blustering loud-mouthed bastard like Drax. And he wasn’t even on a job. The whole evening was a bit of a social pantomime that meant less than nothing to him. Even M. had only been dragged into it by chance. And all of a sudden he’d let himself be swept up into a duel with this multi-millionaire, into a gamble for literally all Bond possessed, for the simple reason that the man had got filthy manners and he’d wanted to teach him a lesson. And supposing the lesson didn’t come off? Bond cursed himself for an impulse that earlier in the day would have seemed unthinkable. Champagne and benzedrine! Never again.
Drax was looking at him in sarcastic disbelief. He turned to M. who was still unconcernedly shuffling the cards. ‘I suppose your guest is good for his commitments,’ he said. Unforgivably.
Bond saw the blood rush up M.’s neck and into his face. M. paused for an instant in his shuffling. When he continued Bond noticed that his hands were quite calm. M. looked up and took the cheroot very deliberately out from between his teeth. His voice was perfectly controlled. ‘If you mean “Am I good for my guest’s commitments”,’ he said coldly, ‘the answer is yes.’
He cut the cards to Drax with his left hand and with his right knocked the ash off his cheroot into the copper ashtray in the corner of the table. Bond heard the faint hiss as the burning ash hit the water.
