"The dealer?" Malone asked.
The little old lady nodded.
"In _your_ favor?"
"He couldn't have been cheating," Boyd said at the same instant. "Why
would he want to give you all that money?"
The little old lady shook her head. "He didn't want to give it to me,"
she said. "He wanted to give it to the man in the cowboy's suit. His
name is Elliott, by the way--Bernard L. Elliott. And he comes from
Weehawken. But he pretends to be a Westerner so nobody will be
suspicious of him. He and the dealer are in cahoots ... isn't that the
word?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Boyd said. "That's the word." His tone was awed and
respectful, and the little old lady gave a nod and became Queen
Elizabeth I once more.
"Well," she said, "the dealer and Mr. Elliott were in cahoots, and the
dealer wanted to give the hand to Mr. Elliott. But he made a mistake,
and dealt the Jack of clubs to me. I watched him, and, of course, I knew
what he was thinking. The rest was easy."
"My God," Malone said. "Easy."