It’s my deal, I take the deck, and I inadvertently crack out of turn, tipping-off that I have been around the block with a deck. I weigh them and say suspiciously, “There are two cards missing.”
The banker sitting to my right, I have noticed over the course of the night, is a very cold, calculating player. He leans over and quizzically murmurs, “How can you pick up a deck and determine two cards are missing?”
In a panic, I think: Oops, I guess that showed a certain level of skill! So, I start hemming and hawing as I feel around the table alibiing, “Well, anyone can tell that!”
As my fingers are shuffling around the slick surface, I bump the placemat of the lawyer sitting next to the banker, knocking it over about eight inches and exposing two cards he has hidden under the mat.
The banker says suspiciously, “What the Hell is going on here?” He jabs a finger toward the lawyer sitting with the two exposed cards and says angrily, “The two cards missing are under your mat.” He turns to the host and says, “And your friend here can pick up the deck and tell two cards are missing. What gives?”