They're keeping quiet, and of course one can't tell, but.

.

." Bishop nodded his head sagely, while Corliss turned the trump he had cut.

A sure vision of a "twenty-four" hand was dazzling him, when there was a sound of voices without and the door shook to a heavy knock.
"Come in!" he bawled.

"An' don't make such a row about it! Look at that"-- to Corliss, at the same time facing his hand--"fifteen-eight, fifteen-sixteen, and eight are twenty-four.