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windows soon after they cleared the city of Dublin.
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"Sir," said a timid voice from opposite him. Oh dear, he thought, he wants to
talk. He raised his gaze to, the pleading spaniel eyes of the man opposite.
"Would you mind if I used a part of the table?" asked the man.
"Not at all," said the judge.
"Thank you sir," said the man, with a detectable brogue from the southwest of
the country.
The judge resumed his study of the papers relating to the settlement of a
complex civil issue he would have to adjudicate on his return to Dublin from
Tralee. The visit to Kerry as circuit court judge to preside over the
quarterly hearings there would, he trusted, offer no such complexities. These
rural circuit courts, in his experience, offered only the simplest of issues
to be decided by local juries who as often as not produced verdicts of
bewildering illogicality.
He did not bother to look up when the wispy man produced a pack of
none-too-clean playing cards from his pocket and proceeded to set some of them
out in columns to play patience. His attention was only drawn some seconds
later to a clucking sound. He looked up again.
The wispy man had his tongue between his teeth in an effort of great
concentration-this was producing the clucking sound-and was staring at the
exposed cards at the foot of each column. Judge Comyn observed at a glance
that a red nine had not been placed upon a black ten, even though both cards
were clearly visible. The
wispy man, failing to see the match, began to deal three more cards. Judge
Comyn choked back his irritation and returned to his papers. Nothing to do
with me, he told himself.
But there is something mesmeric about a man playing patience, and never more
so than when he is playing it badly. Within five minutes the judge's
concentration had been completely broken in the matter of the civil lawsuit,
and he was staring at the exposed cards. Finally he could bear it no longer.
There was an empty column on the right, yet an exposed king on column three
that ought
to go into the vacant space. He coughed. The wispy one looked up in alarm.
"The king," said the judge gently, "it should go up into the space."
The cardplayer looked down, spotted the opportunity and moved the king. The
card now able to be turned over proved to be a queen, and she went to the
king. Before he had finished he had legitimately made seven moves. The column
that began with the king now ended with a ten.
"And the red nine," said the judge. "It can go across now."
The red nine and its dependent six cards moved over to the nine. Another card
could be exposed; an ace, which went up above the game.
"I do believe you will get it out," said the judge.
"Ah, not me, sir," said the wispy man, shaking his head with its sad spaniel
eyes. "Sure I've never got one out yet in all me life."
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"Play on, play on," said Judge Comyn with rising interest. With his help the
game did indeed come out. The wispy man gazed at the resolved puzzle in
wonderment.
"There you are, you see; you've done it," said the judge.
"Ah, but not without your honour's help," said the sad-eyed one. "It's a fine
mind ye have for the cards, sir."
Judge Comyn wondered if the cardplayer could possibly know he was a judge,
but concluded the man was simply using a common form of address in Ireland in
those days towards one worthy of some respect.
Even the priest had laid down his collection of the sermons of the late,
great Cardinal Newman and was looking at the cards.
"Oh," said the judge, who played a little bridge and poker with his cronies
at the Kildare Street Club, "not really."
Privately he was rather proud of his theory that a good legal mind, with its
trained observation, practised powers of deduction and keen memory, could
always play a good game of cards.
The wispy man ceased playing and began idly dealing five-card hands, which he
then examined before returning the cards to the pack. Finally he put the deck
down. He sighed.
"It's a long way to Tralee," he said wistfully.
With hindsight Judge Comyn never could recall who exactly had
mentioned the word poker, but he suspected it might have been himself. Anyway,
he took over the pack and dealt a few hands for himself. One of them, he was
pleased to notice, was a full house, jacks on tens.
With a half-smile, as if amazed at his boldness, the wispy man took up one
hand and held it in front of him.
"I will bet you, sir, one imaginary penny that you cannot deal yourself a
better hand than this one."
"Done," said the judge, and dealt a second hand, which he held up in front of
him. It was not a full house, but contained a pair of nines.
"Ready?" asked Judge Comyn. The wispy man
nodded. They put their cards down. The wispy man had three fives.
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"Ah", said the judge, "but I did not draw any fresh cards, as was my right.
Again, my dear fellow."
They did it again. This time the wispy man drew three fresh cards, the judge
two. The judge had the better hand. "I win my imaginary penny back," said the
judge.
"That you do, sir," said the other. "That was a fine hand. You have the knack [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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