Earl Derr Biggers

“ For Kendrick had swayed and almost fallen on the admiral's game—the game that had once sent a man to hell.
"Go on," he said, bracing. "Nothing's the matter. Go on. Build, damn it, build!"
The mayor looked at him a moment in surprise, then continued.
"Now the king," he muttered, "now the ace. We're on the home stretch, going strong. There, it's finished. It's come out right. A great game, I tell you."
He leaned back. Kendrick's fever-yellowed face was like a bronze mask. His eyes were fiercely on the table and the two decks of cards that lay there. ”

“ Magee that he ought to rise and drag Kendrick away from that table. Why? He did not know. Still, it ought to be done. But the look in Kendrick's eyes showed clearly that the proverbial wild horses could not do it then.
"Tell me how it's played," went on Kendrick, trying to be calm.
"You must be getting old," replied the mayor. "The admiral told me the young men at his club never took any interest in his game. 'Solitaire,' he says to me, 'is an old man's trade.' It's a great game, Mr. Kendrick."
"A great game," repeated Kendrick, "yes, it's a great game." ”

“ Magee's mind was dazed by the tragedy he had witnessed. "A pleasant thing to think about—" He did not envy Kendrick his thoughts.
The mayor of Reuton had pushed aside the cards and lighted a huge cigar.
"Well, Doc," he remarked jocosely, "how's trade? Sold any new schemes for renovating the world to the up-state rubes? I should think this would be sort of an off-season for the reform business. Peace on earth, good will toward men—that ain't exactly a good advertisement for the reformers, is it?" ”