A Bold Bluff

The chips are out. The bet is set. All eyes lie on Saint Bernard. They watch his movements, they study him hard. What hand does he hold as he so calmly stares his cards? Cigar in hand while seated on a chair, this hand will determine it all. A straight, a flush, or just a pair, he controls himself all the same, not even so as to move one hair. No distractions to be had so much like a clever fox. He sits and bides his time whilst the room has no clocks. What has compelled him to present this paradox? Oh Saint Bernard, give a clue, it won't get past the wall. This Bull Dog has his hopes; his hopes of not to fall. Now he to choose, to fold his hand or call? How nerve racking; how intense! not so much as even a cough. What could he be hiding that could end so rough? Seems nothing gets by his poker face. I wonder... is it a bluff?