A Clue in Wax by Fred M. White

It was working out more or less plainly, for if Cheriton could not see quite all the way as he sat there in his cottage with the cards on the table before him, at least he began to see something like daylight at the end of a dark tunnel.

He knew now, at any rate, that a cunning trick had been played on Andrew Canton at the Dormy House by those rascals masquerading as golfers. He knew that they had used one of Mr. Manning Foster's examples of actual hands, played, as recorded in his standard work on the game so as to lure Canton on to gamble and put money in their pockets, not, perhaps, because they actually needed the money, but probably more with a view to getting him in their power. It was not for Cheriton to know that the confederates were very nearly at the end of their resources, as he would have done had he been in a position to overhear the conversation between the pair that evening at the Grand Park Hotel when he had been dining with Evelyn, on the night when he had so unexpectedly come into what was a potential fortune.