No Comebacks

'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 of the cards. I have seen it, though not having it myself. Yes, sir. The knack it is.'

'Nothing but clear deduction and the calculated risk,' corrected Judge Comyn.

At this point they exchanged names, only surnames as was the practice in those days. The judge omitted his title, giving his name simply as Comyn, and the other revealed he was O'Connor. Five minutes later, between Sallins and Kildare, they attempted, a little friendly poker. Five-card draw seemed the appropriate form and went without saying. There was, of course, no money involved.

'The trouble is,' said O'Connor after the third hand, 'I cannot remember who has wagered what. Your honour has his fine memory to help him.'

'I have it,' said Judge Comyn, and triumphantly foraged in his briefcase for a large box of matches. He enjoyed a cigar after his breakfast and another after dinner, and would never have used a petrol lighter on a good four penny Havana.

' Tis the very thing,' said 0 'Connor in wonderment as the judge dealt out twenty matchsticks each.

They played a dozen hands, with some enjoyment, and honours were about even. But it is hard to play two-handed poker, for if one party, having a poor hand, want to 'fold', the other party is finished also. Just past Kildare town O'Connor asked the priest, 'Father, would you not care to join us?'

'Oh, I fear not,' said the rubicund priest with a laugh, 'for I am no hand with the cards. Though,' he added, 'I did once play a little whist with the lads in the seminary.'

'It's the same principle, Father,' said the judge. 'Once learned, never forgotten. You are simply dealt a hand of five cards; you can draw fresh ones up to five if you are not happy with the deal. Then you assess whether the hand you hold is good or bad. If it is good, you wager it is better than ours, if not, you decline to wager, and fold your hand.'

'I'm not certain about wagering,' said the priest doubtfully.

"Tis only matchsticks, Father,' said O'Connor.

'Does one try to take tricks?' asked the priest.

O'Connor raised his eyebrows. Judge Comyn laughed a trifle patronizingly.

'No taking of tricks,' he said. 'The hand you hold is evaluated according to a precise scale of values. Look...'

He rummaged in his briefcase and produced a sheet of white lined paper. From his inner pocket a rolled-gold propelling pencil. He began to write on the sheet. The priest peered to see.

'Top of the list,' said the judge, 'is the royal flush. That means five cards, all in the same suit, all in sequence and beginning with the ace. Since they must be in sequence that means, of course, that the others must be king, queen, jack and ten.'

'I suppose so,' said the priest warily.

'Then comes four of a kind,' said the judge, writing the words in below the royal flush. 'That means exactly what it says. Four aces, four kings, four queens and so forth down to four twos. Never mind the fifth card. And, of course, four aces is better than four kings or anything else. AH right?'

The priest nodded.

'Then comes the full house,' said O'Connor.

'Not quite,' corrected Judge Comyn. 'The straight flush comes next, my friend.'

O'Connor clapped his forehead in the manner of one who admits he is a fool. 'Of course, that's true,' he said. 'You see, Father, the straight flush is like the royal, save only that it is not led off by an ace. But the five cards must be of the same suit and in sequence.'

The judge wrote his description under the words 'four of a kind' on the sheet of paper.

'Now comes Mr O'Connor's full house, which means three of a kind and two of another kind, making up the full five cards. If the three cards are tens and the other two queens, this is called a full house, tens on queens.'

The priest nodded again.

The judge went down the list, explaining each hand, through 'flush', 'straight', 'threes', 'two pairs', 'one pair' and 'ace high'.

'Now,' he said when he had finished, 'obviously one pair, or ace high, or a mixed hand, which is called a bag of nails, would be so poor you really wouldn't wager on them.'

The father gazed at the list. 'Could I refer to this?' he asked.

'Of course,' said Judge Comyn, 'keep it by you, Father, by all means.'