The Game of Chance

by Daniel A. Antidormi

The press, both the regular press as well as the yellow press, were having a field day.

"Prince palms king."

"Royal fiasco."

I threw the newspaper down in disgust. "The shame of it all, Holmes," I said loudly. Holmes, his head bowed down, pushing about some sand or dirt or such on a plate. Without raising himself, he said, "Yes, I agree Watson, if I had these samples 3 months ago Phineas Dorset would have graced the gallows for the Ascroft murder. Instead of having ample time to flee to South America."

"No, not that, Holmes," I said.

"Then what?" he said, using his fork to push the sample around on the plate.

"This bloody awful scandal involving the prince himself."

"Oh, you mean the latest scandal at the Pall Mall club."

"Yes, exactly, to accuse the prince of cheating. Disgraceful!"

"The disgrace, Watson, was in his being discovered. But have no fear this too shall pass and be forgotten. As have a lot worse and stranger things done by royalty when games of chance are involved," Holmes said finally, pushing the plate away.

"I can think of none," I answered.

"Well, Watson, I can recall a certain King from one of the Baltic countries who had the habit of playing cards in his toilet."

"What? How embarrassing. Whatever made him do such a thing?" I asked.

"Perhaps, Watson, he may have thought as long as he was on the throne he was assured of at least one royal flush," Holmes said. I thought I saw a small grin appear on his face, which quickly turned to a look of utter surprise when I said, "Perhaps, Holmes, he did it so he could raise the pot." I felt a small grin come upon my face.



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