Gideon tried not to let his interest show too much, speaking as nonchalantly as he could, and looking down at his cards at the same time.
“Because they always lose,” the young man replied almost cheerfully. “The last time someone was here - there were a few of them actually - but I only got to play with one - I think I got a good few shillings from him.” Laughing, his grin slowly faded. “He was a bit… confused though, so it didn’t feel much of a fair fight.”
“What do you mean confused?”
Wondering if this young lad was speaking about him without being aware of it, Gideon shifted in his chair. Was he about to discover what it was that had happened to him?
Someone else snorted.
“I reckon he just drank too much.”
“Probably.” The young lad chuckled. “There was another fellow with him. He was the one who kept bringing over brandies. Don’t think I’ve ever seen one man drink so much of that stuff! It’s far too expensive for the likes of us.”
“That’s because they’re not from your set,” another man grunted, rolling his eyes as the younger man laughed again. “Men like that, they can afford a whole lot more than just brandy.”
Gideon nodded in an attempt to appear sympathetic, his mind still swirling. Was the night they were describing the night he and his friends had been swindled?
“They must be disappointed if they lose.” Setting out his card on his turn, he sat back in his chair and tilted his head. “Did they stay here afterwards?”
“I don’t know.” The young man shifted in his chair, his eyes narrowing a little. “Seems like a strange thing for someone to ask.”
Quickly thinking of an excuse, Gideon chuckled.
“Or maybe I just want to know so that I can find them the next time and play against them so I can get their shillings for myself.”
For a second or two, no-one reacted but then, much to Gideon’s relief, the younger man smiled, his doubts quickly forgotten.
“They went through there.” Turning his head, he jabbed one thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a room back there. I don’t know what it gets used for or who’s allowed it, but I’ve never been allowed to step inside.”
“Nor have I,” another man replied.
“Or me,” grumbled a third.
Gideon allowed himself a wry smile while inside, his heart was pounding furiously. If he had been so foxed – or overcome by something – then he wouldn’t even have known a room was there or that he had been taken into it.
“I wouldn’t have seen that unless you’d pointed it out to me.”
“Oh yes.” The young man puffed out his chest. “It’s only us lot who know about it. We’ve been coming here to play for a long time, but none of us know what goes on inside.”
An older man cleared his throat.
“That’s not something to talk about. You know that whatever we see going into that room stays quiet.”
“And the people who go into it stay quieter still,” another man put in, shooting a warning look to the younger man, who suddenly wasn’t grinning anymore.
Gideon’s gut twisted. He desperately wanted to ask more questions, to find out whether or not they were talking about him, but instead, he forced his mouth closed, keeping his eyes fixed on the cards.
A man snorted, clearly a little foxed as he picked up his glass.
“Can’t say I care too much about that,” he muttered, throwing back the rest of whatever was in his glass before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then attempting to pick up his cards. “What exactly are they going to do to me? Everyone saw that man go in there. Saw him come out too. We all know we’re not meant to say nothing, but I reckon their threats mean nothing.”
“That’s stupid. Keep your mouth shut.”
The man rolled his eyes, ignoring the advice of his friend.
“Why? You saw him getting dragged over there. You saw the blood on his shirt, saw him getting dragged to the front door when he could barely stand. And the man that did it has been back here, more than once.”
“We’ll be next if you keep talking,” someone said, as tension twisted from one man to the next. “He always says to keep quiet.”
