“Well, there was one thing which very soon struck me, and that was that the soldiers used always to lose and the civilians to win. Mind, I don’t say that there was anything unfair, but so it was. These prison-chaps had done little else than play cards ever since they had been at the Andamans, and they knew each other’s game to a point, while the others just played to pass the time and threw their cards down anyhow. Night after night the soldiers got up poorer men, and the poorer they got the more keen they were to play. Major Sholto was the hardest hit. He used to pay in notes and gold at first, but soon it came to notes of hand and for big sums. He sometimes would win for a few deals, just to give him heart, and then the luck would set in against him worse than ever. All day he would wander about as black as thunder, and he took to drinking a deal more than was good for him.
“One night he lost even more heavily than usual. I was sitting in my hut when he and Captain Morstan came stumbling along on the way to their quarters. They were bosom friends, those two, and never far apart. The major was raving about his losses.
“ ‘It’s all up, Morstan,’ he was saying, as they passed my hut. ‘I shall have to send in my papers. I am a ruined man.’
“ ‘Nonsense, old chap!’ said the other, slapping him upon the shoulder. ‘I’ve had a nasty facer myself, but—’ That was all I could hear, but it was enough to set me thinking.
“A couple of days later Major Sholto was strolling on the beach: so I took the chance of speaking to him.
“ ‘I wish to have your advice, major,’ said I.
“ ‘Well, Small, what is it?’ he asked, taking his cheroot from his lips.