A very successful, at the green baize, bloke (the setting is London) had a most curious habit: Whenever arose a truly difficult bidding problem, he would take out a small silver case from his breast-pocket, open the lid, consult the inside, close it, and only than make a call: a call that was invariably the right choice.

He died, at a ripe old age, from a heart attack at the table.  In the finals of a major knockout, in his doubled contract of Seven Spades, holding A,K,Q,J,10,9 of trumps facing a singleton in dummy, and having ruffed the Diamond Ace opening lead was ready to claim 15 tricks, when right-hand opponent showed out on the first round of trumps. He keeled over with never a sound.

He was "separated", wife could not compete with the four ladies in the deck of 52, had no children and the widow in a final act of retaliation decided to auction off his bridge-oriented belongings. She found the auction hall unexpectedly packed … little did she know, that most of those were aiming solely for the "silver".

Other items came and went under the gavel with scant excitement, but when the auctioneer called "… silver case, for cigarettes or snuff …", the tension in the room became palpable. Bidding (yes, that word can mean something else too) was prolonged and furious.  Finally a consortium of four acquired the precious object for a price akin to the ransom of an Arabian Princess, reputed officially, to be still a virgin.

The "winning" team retired to a private room in their favorite pub and having secured four tankards of the best stout from the publican, unwrapped their prize and opened the lid. The back plate held a single engraved word …