BOOK THREE The Wheel (continued 2)

“Thank you.”

“Oh, I’m speaking just to demonstrate my point. No one knows anything about any one else in this place. For all I know you may be in the pay of the police, or for all you know I may be. Between friends, though, I’m neither a crook nor a detective, but just a common or garden boob—like yourself.”

“They must be worried, the outfit upstairs?”

“Yes, I guess they’re lying awake nights, some of ’em. For don’t you see, a man can play with the counterfeit chips, and if he loses, no matter. But if he wins they pay him real chips and he is in right. He goes on calmly playing with the bank’s own money. Oh, it’s a cinch! And the point of the joke is that there is no law against it. You’re not counterfeiting money, you’re counterfeiting counters. And for gambling purposes, too. Why, if they found you out, I don’t believe they could legally do anything to you. Anyway they would never bring such a case into court. They ain’t seeking publicity of that kind. Nop, the worst they could do would be to fire you over the frontier and take care you never came back. I tell you I rather admire the bunch that are putting this thing over. If I was broke and desperate, I’d do the same.”

“And what do you suppose the Casino crowd are doing about it?”

“Everything they can. Taking away the cards of every one they suspect. Watching us all. Krantz is a cute one. It’s only a question of time before he gets on.... By Christopher! pipe that man coming out of the Rooms. That man’s your double; that’s the Honourable Paul Vulning.”

CHAPTER SIX A SLAVE OF THE WHEEL

1.

LOOKING in the direction in which Mr. Gimp’s finger pointed Hugh saw a tall, slim man sauntering across the hall. He had fair hair, brushed smoothly back, and features of the conventional English regularity.

“He’s like you and yet he ain’t,” commented Mr. Gimp. “You’re fresh and he’s a bit used up. He’s just what you’d be like in ten years’ time if you went the pace something fierce. A gay dog! He’s got a villa up on the hill. They say there are strange goings on at that same villa. He’s got a swell car, too. He owes all over the place, but he always seems to have heaps of cash to spend. That’s Mrs. Emslie speaking to him. A terrible woman, she is. I expect she’s trying to borrow from him. She’d do anything for money, that woman. She’s getting so desperate.”

“Pity for the daughter!”

“Yep, poor kid. Say, I saw her on the terrace early this morning, all alone in the corner beside the baths. So I went up and I says: ‘Well, Honey, how goes it?’ She turned round, and blamed if she wasn’t crying. ‘Couldn’t be worse,’ she says. ‘We’ve lost everything. Mother won’t stop. She’s borrowing from all sorts of horrid people. I think she’s mad. I don’t know what’s going to become of us.’”

“What will become of them?”

To this Mr. Gimp replied only by an eloquent shrug of his shoulders.

Hugh watched Paul Vulning with a curious fascination. As Vulning stared superciliously at the crowd Mrs. Emslie talked to him feverishly, trying to hold his attention. Then they sauntered away together.

“You see that big jolly man,” Mr. Gimp observed, “the one with the black skull cap. Well, that’s the slickest player ever hit this skin-game joint. That man never loses. They call him ‘Cheero,’ because every time the zero comes up he calls out: ‘Cheero.’ That man’s always smiling. He goes about his business quietly, but believe me, he’s just salting away the dough. He claims he can hypnotize the croupiers and make them throw where he wants.”

“What rot!”

“No more rot than lots of other systems.... See that tall woman in grey just crossing the hall. Nobody knows who she is, and what’s more, nobody’s ever seen her face. She always wears that thick veil. They call her Number One, because she goes from table to table, always playing on the number one. At night she goes off to Nice in a covered car. Some say she’s an Indian Princess, some say it’s cancer. Any way, nobody knows what’s behind that veil. She’s one of the Casino’s mysteries.”

“What queer characters!”

“Queer! Why, we all get queer if we stay here long enough. I’m queer. You’ll get queer. MacTaggart’s getting queerer every day. Yep, it’s a queer place.... Say, if I was a writing man I could make a dozen books out of it. There’s a mine of material here. It’s fantastic; it ain’t real. It’s a stage show. Yes siree, it’s the queerest place on earth.”

They sauntered over to the “Hall of Gloom,” and sat on a padded bench near the door of the private rooms. As they watched the stream of people coming and going, Hugh noticed two ladies, one matronly, the other old and decrepit. They were dressed alike, with big roses in their hats and feather boas.

“Mother and daughter,” said Mr. Gimp. “They’re known as the two Roses. The mother’s over eighty, but she simply cannot stay away from the Rooms. She sits at the table, her face level with the cloth, her hands clutching a few counters. Sometimes she has fits and has to be carried out. She should be on her knees in some church instead of goggling and gasping over that bloody board.... There was another old lady, nice, serene, gentle, fat, who used to be known as ‘Queen Victoria,’ because she resembled the late Queen. She held a kind of levée every day in the Rooms. But her friends took her home to England, and they say she nearly died of lonesomeness there. There’s lots like that, old folks tottering on the edge of the tomb. They’d die in the Rooms if you’d let ’em.... Just look at that table over there. There’s a man that’s blind and beside him a woman that’s paralyzed. I tell you, folks come here that have to be carried to the table. They’re half dead.”

“Do many die in the Rooms?”

“Suicide? Not on your life. It’s considered bad form. As the English say: ‘It’s a thing that’s simply not done....’ By God! if I wanted to do it, I’d give ’em a jar. I’d go to that centre table and lean well over the wheel; then I’d start pumping lead into my bean. I’d cover that table with gore. A bucket of blood. I’d spatter my brains over the damned croupiers. I can see the Chef de Partie wiping them out of the corner of his eye....”

“What a ghastly idea! I hope you’re not seriously thinking of such a thing.”

Mr. Gimp cackled with laughter. “You don’t know me, son. I’m not that sort. Still I’ve got a kind of idea in my old head I’ll make a sensational exit. I have a notion that when I go, I’ll go with a bang. I don’t just know how, but there it is....”

2.

In the week that followed Hugh saw a good deal of Paul Vulning. The latter liked to swing round the “Cheese” in his long low carmine-coloured car. He leaned back, driving with studied nonchalance. On one occasion, he narrowly shaved Hugh and Mr. MacTaggart. The big Scotchman shook a wrathful fist after him.

“The dawmed swanker! Ye’d think he wis rinnin’ the place. Ah’ll gie him a puck on the gub yin o’ thae days that’ll teach him tae look doon his neb at folk better than himsel’. I’ve got ma eye on him. I’ve seen him aboot a lot wi’ Mrs. Emslie lately. Ye can tak’ me word for it he’s up tae nae guid.”

And sure enough the very next day Hugh saw Mrs. Emslie and her daughter in the carmine car. Vulning had a squint-eyed chauffeur who sat with him as he drove. The mother and girl were behind. On their return he saw them again; but this time, June Emslie was in front with the chauffeur, while Vulning was behind with the mother.

That evening, he met the two women once more,—this time on the Avenue des Fleurs. As he passed them in the darkness, he heard the mother’s voice tense with anger. He never again saw the daughter waiting in the atrium, but Mrs. Emslie, her white cheeks painted, her eyes burning, gambled more desperately than ever.

Hugh himself was trying a new system which was behaving rather decently. He put two louis on the manque and a louis on one of the transversals of the passe. If it came manque he won a louis; if he struck the transversal he won seven louis. He did not play until certain indications told him he had the odds in his favour. He had to a curious degree that sense of probability which is so valuable to the player of roulette. Occasionally he had a hard tussle with the bank, but on the whole he averaged a hundred francs a day. In addition to this he made two louis for the running of the house. He was greatly pleased and used to say to Margot:

“Isn’t it jolly to think that every mouthful we eat, we make the Casino pay for? Doesn’t it make the food taste ever so much sweeter?”

“That’s not much of a compliment to my cooking.”

“You’re cooking’s delicious, my child. It’s the things you don’t cook. By the way I made a couple of louis extra to-day, so here’s something for you. You can regard it as a present from the Société.”

The gift was a pair of suede gloves. It was a joke of which he never tired, that of giving her a present and saying: “With the compliments of the Casino.”

He had come to love their big bright room. It was a refuge, a retreat from the fever and fret of the tables. Here was reality, the simple things that mattered; there, a false splendour, a theatrical pretentiousness. Margot considered his growing fondness for home a victory for her, and increased her efforts to make it attractive. She bought many little furnishings, so that the living part became extremely comfortable. But behind the big green curtain their sleeping arrangements remained unchanged. The small grey curtain divided his part from hers. This curtain seemed to him to have a definite significance. It was the symbol of his honour. It was the frailest of barriers, yet by the expression of his will it had become more solid than a sheet of steel. It seemed curious at night to think that she was so close. He often heard her breathing. Perhaps she was his for the taking. But then she trusted him. He would open his eyes and look at the grey curtain with a certain grim exultation. Good job it was grey. Maybe if it had been orange or crimson, or some colour that appealed to the senses, he might have been tempted to tear it aside.... But grey had a sobering effect.

Not that he would have yielded to temptation. He was not that sort, he told himself. If any such intention had ventured into his mind, he would have stamped on it as he would on a snake. He had pride and strength. He was clean-minded, cool-blooded. He was equal to the situation he had created. Yet it was oddly pleasant to have her so close to him. What did she think? he sometimes wondered. She, too, accepted the situation and played the game as honourably as he. They were like brother and sister.

He had to admit that every day she was growing more attractive. As if to please him she had taken to dressing her hair in the English fashion; parting it over the forehead, and massing it in a thick pleat at the nape of her neck. The slight hollowing of her cheeks and the sweetness of her mouth reminded him of Rossetti’s women. She did not have much colouring; her skin was like ivory, and the faint pink of her cheeks that of a sea shell. He made a good many sketches of her; and told himself that some day he would paint her portrait.

But, for the time being, the Goddess Roulette claimed him as her own. She brooked no rival. There in the gaiety and the golden sunshine, he thought roulette, dreamed roulette, lived roulette. He was a worshipper among a host of worshippers, their temple the Casino; and few worshippers at a sacred shrine are so devoted.

One night he had a dream.

The vast hollow of the sky seemed to be the bowl of a mighty wheel. The ball rolled with the long menace of thunder and shot into its slot like a lightning stab. Beneath the shadow of this sinister wheel, the air was grey with fluttering bank-notes, the earth was like an ant-heap of fevered, frenzied men and women. As they leaped at the money it nearly always evaded them. With each leap they grew more feeble. Then he noticed that the ground beneath them was a quagmire, into which they were sinking. Their struggles plunged them deeper and deeper into the ooze, until they disappeared from sight. But no sooner had they gone than others took their place. They, too, leaped and clutched at the elusive fortune, only to sink in turn. And over them the great shadowy wheel rumbled and flashed, taking the place of God and the stars.... It was all so vivid that he awoke shuddering and crying aloud: “The wheel! The wheel!”

But no dream could damp his ardour, nor cloud his happiness. He was superbly happy. He told himself it was because of the beauty and charm of the place. Monte Carlo in its setting of primitive grandeur, glutted with luxury, and gorged with light; man’s insolent triumph over nature; a cocotte of price poised amid the eternal verities of mountain and sea. He adored it. Its keynote was joy. Life glittered and sang. Every day was a fête day. He loved the feeling that he was part of it, one of its gay pleasure-seekers. That was the side of it he chose to see. What if there was another, a sinister one! As far as he was concerned it did not exist. Ruin, suicide, misery, all these were lies of blackmailing journalists. The gambling was a harmless diversion indulged in by people who lost what they could afford to lose. Those who fell were only the weak who would have gone to the wall in some other way. No, it was the most adorable place on earth.

One evening as he climbed the long hill to the Casino, his thoughts were of the pleasantest. The night was rich with velvet darkness. A sense of rain lurked in the crystal purity of the air, a soft reluctant rain that might come before morning. On the concrete blocks that protect the harbour the little lights of fishermen made swirls of gold, and their nets moved round and round, scooping up the fish attracted by the glow. The water of the harbour was as black as patent leather, and the quay lamps shot down long bright stems that sprouted into silver foliage. The few lights on the dark heights of Monaco seemed only to accentuate its mystery.

He stood for a while where the white bust of Berloitz springs on a shaft of marble from a patch of purple pansies. He looked past the fiery frontages of the vast hotels, to where, above them all, the cornice of the Riviera Palace appeared like an agraffe of pearls. He inhaled deeply the breath of the sea. How well he felt! Never since the year before the war, when he played cricket and football, had he felt so fit. He was a man again, ready to tackle the job of life.

As he walked past the band-stand the Casino windows made panels of orange against the biscuit-coloured stone. No, he would not play again that night. One must not abuse one’s luck. He had already made three hundred francs. He had now a thousand of the bank’s money to gamble with. To-morrow he would buy ten chips of a hundred francs each and play with them instead of with louis. He was full of confidence. To-morrow the battle again; to-night the joy of victory. He rounded the corner where the grounds of the Casino overhang the station, and entered the quieter garden beyond. Finding a shadowed seat he sat down to smoke. He was soon in a happy reverie.

A rock garden close by formed a small plateau on which was a pergola. Suddenly his attention was drawn to it. He saw two people emerge from the shadow. At first he thought they were lovers; then he noticed they were struggling. As he bent forward trying to pierce the darkness he heard a woman’s faint cry of distress. Rising swiftly, he ran towards them.

CHAPTER SEVEN PLUNGING

1.

A MAN in evening dress was holding a girl and trying to draw her closer to him.

“Leave me alone,” she moaned; “let me go or I’ll scream for help. I will, I tell you....”

“You little fool! As if a kiss or two would hurt you. Come on, I’ve got the car down below. Let me take you for a spin.”

“No, no. Let me go home to mother.”

He laughed. “You know your mother’s in the Casino playing the fool, with money I lent her,—the last, by God! she ever gets from me,—unless you are more amiable. I say, let’s go over to Ciro’s and have something.”

“Oh, please let me go. You’re hurting me. I must find mother. She wouldn’t like me to be alone here.”

“Bah! As long as she can gamble, your precious mother doesn’t care two pins what you do. Why, she knows you’re with me. She’s got an extra thousand to-night to keep out of the way. Come on, be reasonable! I’ll save your mother yet; but you’ve got to be pretty nice. Here, another kiss....”

“Oh, no. Please don’t. You forget yourself. You’ve been drinking. Let me go, I say, let me go....”

His answer was to clutch her more fiercely. With a sudden wrench she freed herself and broke away. He stood swaying for a moment, then with a drunken laugh sprang after her. His arms were once more about to close around her when Hugh leapt forward and dealt him a blow. The man went down.

The girl had turned. In the radiance of an arc-light Hugh saw her fear-distorted face.

“Miss Emslie!”

“Yes, yes,” she panted. “Oh, please help me. I’m afraid....”

“You needn’t be afraid. I’ll deal with this chap.”

“I don’t know you, but I’ve seen you often. How can I thank you....”

“Never mind about that. Run home to your friends.”

She vanished. As the man rose Hugh recognized Paul Vulning, his face flushed with wine and deadly with rage.

“You young devil, you! Why did you do that?”

“Because under the circumstances it seemed the proper thing to do.”

“Is it the proper thing to interfere in an affair that doesn’t concern you?”

“Her friends are my friends.”

“Who the devil are you? I’ve never met you. If it were not for these fellows there I’d thrash you.”

“These fellows” were two firemen who had appeared from the shadow. Probably they had been there all the time but had not judged the moment opportune to intervene. Hugh laughed.

“We needn’t let that stand in our way. If there’s thrashing to be done, I expect we can find lots of quiet places down on the beach.”

“I would be a fool to do that. I don’t know who you are. You may be a crook for all I know.”

“I may be. You don’t know me. But I know you for a rotter and a cad.”

Paul Vulning’s face grew purple in its fury. Throwing discretion to the winds, he rushed and swung a heavy blow. The two firemen valiantly tried to come between them, and one of them received the vicious swing intended for Hugh. Angered, he too struck out. There threatened to be a general mix-up, when a voice, suave but edged with authority, made them all turn.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, what’s this about? Do you want to be arrested?”

A tall dark man, with a lean intelligent face and a bland smile, seemed to have sprung from nowhere. It was Krantz. He continued smoothly:

“I would strongly recommend you both to go home. You know, gentlemen, we don’t want trouble in the Principality. Peace, perfect peace is our ideal. Be advised, messieurs: go home.”

Paul Vulning’s jaw had dropped, and he was staring at Krantz with a look that was half fascination, half fear. Then with a glower of hate at Hugh, he strode away.

The next day, as he had planned, Hugh played with placques and won a thousand francs. On his way out he met Mr. Gimp. The little lean man seemed agitated as he fumbled over “the makings.” He pursed out his underlip grimly.

“Heard the news?”

“No.”

“Mrs. Emslie ... she’s gone ... the veronal route....”

2.

One morning Hugh awoke joyously and sang as he dressed.

“You seem very gay,” said Margot, “considering you came home so very late last night.”

“Yes, it was a gala night at Café de Paris. Masked dancers and all that sort of thing. Very jolly. But I’m gay for another reason. Look....”

He spread on the table five notes of a thousand francs each. “There! Gaze, gloat, marvel—the bank’s money.”

Her obvious awe was touched with anxiety.

“And you’ve made all that?”

“All.”

“You’re wonderful. You’ll stop now, I hope.”

“Stop nothing! I’m going on. I’ve got a lucky streak.”

“You’ll lose it all again.”

“Tant pis! I’m going to risk it. I’m going to play big. I say, you’d better come and watch me.”

“Never! I couldn’t. The emotion! It would be painful.”

“That’s what I love,—the emotion. The moment, just before the ball drops, when the heart seems to pause. Whether one wins or loses one has that precious thrill. Come.”

“No, thank you.”

Alone Hugh climbed the familiar hill. On his left towered huge hotels, on his right the water of the gem-like harbour was like lapis lazuli, the quays like porcelain. Dainty yachts, all varnish and brasswork, glassed themselves exquisitely. A carmine car dashed past him. Hugh caught a glimpse of Paul Vulning at the wheel. The seat raked so that he seemed to be lying down. Beside him sat the cross-eyed chauffeur.

Hugh entered the Rooms with no definite plan of playing. His five thousand francs were folded up into a small packet. It was curious, he thought as he fingered it, how suddenly he seemed to lose all sense of its value. It was not money at all, merely a ball of worthless paper. A magnificent recklessness came over him. Going to the first table, he took from his pocket the greasy wad of notes and threw it on red. There it was gone, that crumpled soiled packet. He was rid of it. In another moment that silly little ball would drop into a black slot, and he would turn away with a careless smile.... No, it had dropped into a red. How funny! He saw everybody turn to look at him. He stood in a daze while the croupier unfolded his notes, counted them and paid him five more. He had been in the Casino just one minute and he had made five thousand francs.

He was back in his room half an hour after he had left it. He spread his ten notes out on the table. Margot looked at him with admiration and anxiety. He enjoyed the admiration.

“Come on,” he said; “I won’t play any more to-day. We’ll go to Nice for lunch and make an afternoon of it.”

The next day he followed his impulse again, and threw five thousand francs on black. He lost. Going to another table he played again on black and won. The situation was unchanged, but his nerves were a little uncertain.

The following day he hesitated; but finally, after taking three imaginary losses, he played for a win, and got it. He had now fifteen thousand francs.

On the fourth day his nerve failed him. After watching the play, making up his mind, then hesitating and drawing back again he came away without having played.

On the fifth day he played a well-known coup that comes off three times out of five. After a long run on black, a break and a return to black, he played on red and won. Twenty thousand francs.

That afternoon like a miser he spread his twenty big notes all over the table, and a sudden exaggerated sense of their value came to him. Twenty thousand francs! Why, it meant Capital. In some quiet country place he could live for three or four years on that; buy himself an interest in a business, get a good start in life again. The Casino had served him well.

Margot looked at him with growing anxiety. “You’ll stop now, won’t you?”

“No, I haven’t got enough yet.”

“Mon Dieu! How much do you want?”

“Sixty thousand! I want to buy a good car for about twenty thousand. Then there’s a little cottage with a big garden at Villefranche I can get for another twenty. Between the car and the garden I think I can make a pretty tidy living.”

“And the third twenty?”

“That’s for you, my child. What the French call a dot, the day you marry.”

“And if I never marry?”

“Well, then, you’ll keep house for me in my little cottage covered with roses. You’ll still be my little sister.”

“That’s nicer. Now you can stop at forty thousand.”

“No. I’m an obstinate brute. Sixty thousand goes.”

The girl sighed. “By the way we have a new neighbour, such a fine looking old man, a Professor Durand.”

“The dickens! I know him quite well. He’s a little touched. Thinks he has an invincible system that’s going to bust up the Casino.”

“Yes, the concierge told me. He has books and books of figures and diagrams. He works over them night and day.”

“Seems to me the concierge takes too much interest in his locataires. I don’t like that man. I wish you would talk to him as little as possible.”

“Very well. I don’t like him myself, he ... he tried to make love to me.”

“The dog! I’ll smash him.”

“No, please don’t make a fuss. I stopped him pretty quick. It doesn’t do to make enemies of those people.”

The following day Hugh met Professor Durand on the stairway. The old man was bronzed and hale-looking.

“Ha! my young friend!” he said. “Yes, I’ve been in the mountains, the pines, preparing for the battle. I want all the strength that is left in me to accomplish my mission.”

“Poor old chap!” thought Hugh, “he doesn’t know what’s in front of him. Pathetic! Maybe another Casino tragedy.”

3.

As he was sitting in the Café de Paris that evening listening to the music, Hugh idly watched the entrance to the Casino with its four great lanterns. In the softened lustre its pale yellow stone took on a mellow radiance almost onyxlike. Seen through the palms with the stars for a background it was like a gleaming palace of delight, poised over the mystery of the sea.

Into the pool of light from the doorway swished glossy limousines from which descended elegantly dressed people. One, a very tall man, mounted the steps and paused for a moment. He had a spade-shaped beard, a swarthy face, and a hooked nose.

“First time I’ve seen that chap,” thought Hugh. “Looks like a grandee of old Castile, but is probably an Armenian money-changer.”

Just at that moment Mr. Tope came bustling up. “I say,” said Hugh, “who’s that hidalgo-looking johnny on the steps?”

Mr. Tope screwed a monocle into his right eye. “Don’t know exactly. Some say he’s a South American, ex-president of some small republic who got away with the state treasure. Wouldn’t be surprised. He has a vulturish look. The scum of the world find their way here, and as long as they have money they are welcome. By the way, I hear great things of you, winning maximums and so on. Congratulations, young man! Any one who can get ahead of that institution over there has my profound admiration. You know, my boy, they’re making a million a week; and they say there’s a suicide a day. I believe that’s an exaggeration, though. If they put it at six a week they might be nearer the truth. I suppose you’ve heard of the latest one?...”

“No.”

“That big man with the skull cap; they used to call him ‘Cheero.’”

“Really!”

“Prussic acid in the Café of the Casino. They always said he was the luckiest player in the Rooms, the man who never lost. As it turned out he did nothing but lose; he lost a million and hid it behind that placid smile. That smile was a mask that hid his agony....”

“Pretty rough! One never knows. Oh, I say, I haven’t seen anything of the Calderbrooks lately.”

“No, they’re lying low at present. They went through their letter of credit and then borrowed from the bank. The old man wanted to go home, but the two women persuaded him to stay another month. They put a mortgage on their house, and are having two thousand pounds sent out.”

“And what about Mrs. Emslie’s daughter?”

“Oh, June. The Fitzoswalds have taken her in. Poor girl! She was very ill after the tragedy. We wanted to send her to England, but it seems she has no relatives there. They come from Australia. The mother gambled away all the girl’s fortune and the poor thing is alone in the world, helpless and destitute.”

“Is she better now?”

“Yes. The mother led her an awful life. June is helping Mrs. Fitzoswald to look after the kiddies. You know Mrs. Fitz? Spunky little Irishwoman with bronze gold hair and a turned up nose! Fitz is that red-headed, one-legged man; always plays the same game, builds up louis round the number thirty-two. He says it is his wife’s age, but she denies it. She says she wishes Fitz would hurry up and be ruined, for then they could go home to Ireland and live in peace. Well, they’re awfully fine people, and so good to June. I say, young man, there’s a chance for you. A sweet, pretty, refined girl, friendless and without a sou. Why don’t you sail in, marry her and be happy ever after?”

“But I’ve never had the faintest idea of marrying.”

“Ah well, poor June must become a nurse or a governess, or fall into the clutches of some professional seducer such as Vulning. I’ve heard he’s after her. I hope the Major gets ruined pretty soon, and then the Fitzoswalds can take June away from this infected hell.”

4.

The very next day Hugh encountered June Emslie. She was playing with the Fitzoswald children in the circular sand pit near the dove-cage. She started and grew pale; then advanced to meet him with outstretched hand. Neither of them referred to the previous meeting. He found her timid, painfully embarrassed, but shyly worshipping as she looked at him. Come to think of it, he had made rather an effective entry on the scene that night, quite in the hero of romance fashion. If she was at all sentimental she must have idealized him. Being a prosaic young man he was rather annoyed at the thought and his manner became brusque, careless even. Her recent sorrow had not driven the fresh colour from her cheeks. If Margot was the type of the lily this girl was like a rose. Her features were sensitive and delicate, her hair a dark chestnut, her eyes deep blue. She was tall, and slender, and apparently not more than seventeen. After a few commonplace remarks, he said:

“If I can do anything for you, anything at all, please let me know. Think of me as a friend, and call on me if ever you should need me.”

She understood what he meant and a deep flush overspread her face.

“Yes, I will. Thank you so much. By the way,—I don’t know your name.”

He told her. “Shall I write it down?” he asked.

“Oh no. I assure you I can remember it.”

They said good-bye and he left her with an impression of her virginal sweetness and budding charm.

But she did not remain long in his thoughts. That afternoon he had an engagement with Mrs. Belmire. Of late she had gone out of her way to be nice to him, and he had begun to admire her enthusiastically. He was proud to be seen with her, and was blind to her deficiencies. She had for him the attraction of the ripe, experienced woman for the raw, callow youth. When she asked him to take her to Cap Martin, her request made him simmer with joyous excitement.

He called for her in a voiture with two horses and they drove along the shore road. She was simpler and sweeter than he had ever known her; but, he thought, abstracted and depressed. They sat on the rocks awhile, then had tea in the hotel. On the way home her pensiveness increased so noticeably that at last he taxed her with it.

“I say, what’s the matter? You seem so sad to-day.”

She turned with a forced smile. “Am I? Perhaps I am. You see I’m worried. But then what have my troubles got to do with you?”

“Oh, please tell me. Look on me as a friend.”

“Dear boy, so I do. Well, I’m in difficulties—financial difficulties. I’ve got money coming out from England; but I’ve had such rotten luck at baccarat lately, and a lot of little bills have been coming in, and ... well, this is all I have to meet them.”

From her vanity bag she took a tiny jewelled purse, and showed him in its satin interior a few torn franc bills and some sous.

“Grotesque, isn’t it? I wouldn’t care, only there’s my week’s bill at the pension. I’ll pull through somehow....”

Hugh thrilled with sympathy; he blushed, stammered and blurted out: “I say, I’ve been rather lucky at the tables lately. Won’t you let me help you ... a little loan....”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t think of it.”

“It will be a privilege. Make me happy, please, by accepting.”

“Well, if you put it that way. I know you’ve been lucky, dear boy. You’re just too nice. Perhaps a mille would tide me over.”

Hugh feverishly searched his pocket-book. Alas! he had prudently left his big bills with Margot. All he had were some twenty ten franc notes.

“Look here, it’s too bad,” he said, “I’ve left all my money at home. But, to-night, if you can meet me at the Café de Paris at nine, I’ll have it.”

“I can count on that?”

“Yes.”

“You darling! I say ... there’s no one on the road. Quick. If you like, you may kiss me.”

5.

He arrived at the Café de Paris about half past eight, keyed up and exalted. The afternoon seemed to have added an inch to his stature. The most charming woman in Monte!... And he had kissed her.... Having a little time to spare he went into the Rooms. The impulse he knew so well was luring him on.

“If I give her a mille,” he thought, “why not make the Casino pay for it?”

At the first table he threw a maximum on red and won. Rather sourly they paid him six thousand francs.

“Five thousand for me,” he said, “and a thousand for Mrs. B.”

He found her exquisitely dressed and impatiently awaiting him. His luck had added to his excitement. He was feeling capable of any folly. He folded up a mille note very neatly and slipped it into her bag. Then somewhat to his chagrin she excused herself.

“I’m awfully sorry. I have an engagement at the club. Probably see you to-morrow.”

She left him feeling rather chilled and sober.

“Well,” he consoled himself, “perhaps it is just as well. In any case I now have twenty-five thousand francs.”

He did not play for the next few days. His success rather dismayed him; his nerve was gone. Then on two successive days a chance appeared which was too favourable to be resisted; it was what he called a sure-shot. As a matter of fact, it really came off in five cases out of six, but only by watching and waiting could one get on to it. A long run on one of the simple chances had to be followed by a certain combination of both chances. In each case when he played it he won; his capital had now increased to thirty-five thousand francs.

He began to feel what he had never felt in his life before,—secure. To a rich man that sum was nothing; to him, everything. But he was becoming increasingly nervous. He must not lose this money. He must be more prudent than ever. If he lost it, it would discourage him utterly; he would never have the heart to begin over again. Yet he must make the sixty thousand on which he had set his heart. Only twenty-five thousand more. Four wins of maximums would practically do it. Well, he must pluck up his courage and try again. He must nerve himself for the final struggle.

CHAPTER EIGHT THE BIG FIGHT

DURING his long spells of waiting, he became more and more intimately acquainted with the world of the Casino,—from the prowling seeker of the sure-shot to the holiday plunger, from the philosophic veteran with pencil and note-book to the nouveau riche spraying the table with louis. He came to know the eternal types, the avid-eyed old women, the blowsy, brazen matron, the cocotte throwing money away with cynical contempt, the young girl from the convent risking her first five franc piece.

Then the unending Casino comedies. For instance, the Honeymoon Couple comedy. The first day she hangs on his arm while he plays. The second day he hangs on her arm while she plays. The third day they separate a little and try tiny flutters of their own. The fourth day they get seats at the same table and advise each other as to their play. The fifth day they get seats at separate tables, and each plays as if the other did not exist. The sixth day she is begging him for money, and he is refusing. The seventh day they moon round without playing, he moody, she sulky, very near to a quarrel. Then on the eighth day they disappear, perhaps never to be the same again.

Then there is the woman who talks to the croupier, fawning on him and asking him how she ought to play. Sometimes the knight of the rateau hazards a guess. If it comes off, tant mieux. Perhaps, it means a tip; if it doesn’t, tant pis. No man is infallible.

These types repeat themselves endlessly; but among them from time to time appear strange original characters piquing the curiosity of the public. The Casino is like a stage where they enter, play their parts, and make their exit. Old and young, good and bad, rich and poor,—they come and go; they lose or win; they sidle across the glossy floor under the great white dome; they smirk and posture, wrangle and vapour. Beefy Englishman and desiccated Yank, flatulent Frenchman and oily Italian, morose Spaniard and bovine Swede; Jap, Chinaman, Rasta and Levantine Jew—they mix amid the throng that surges around the whirring wheels, and their strange tongues mingle in one confused babble.

So fantastic did it appear to Hugh that at times he rubbed his eyes and wondered if it could be real. How he wished he were a writer. If only he could see into their hearts, know their histories, pick their brains, what books he could write, a library of books, a document of humankind that would outweigh the works of Balzac and Zola combined.

He became better acquainted with daily frequenters of the Casino and watched them with unceasing amusement. There was one, a Greek, a grossly fat man with three chins and a promontory of greasy waistcoat. On his pudgy hand he wore rubies as large as walnuts; and as he walked from table to table, laying mille placques on the dozens he never ceased to perspire. The tall woman in grey also attracted him. She was always gloved, always veiled. She played with persistency her game on number one, losing or winning with apparent indifference. Who was she? She went from table to table with the strangeness and mystery of a specter.

His attention was drawn irresistibly to the very tall man with the spade-shaped beard, who, he had learned, was a Brazilian diplomat. His name was Doctor Bergius and he was said to be of mixed Spanish and German parentage. From the moment he had entered the Rooms, the doctor had become a dominating personality. He was as straight as a shoot of bamboo, with a high carriage and an eye of piercing command. His long nose resembled the beak of a vulture of the Andes; his brow retreated from his piercing black eyes and his skin was as coppery as that of an Indian. He always dressed with immaculate care. He never played, but looking gravely on, with his hands behind his back, appeared only remotely interested in the game.

Then there was another man who attracted Hugh, partly because he was so graceful and handsome, partly because he had once broken the bank. He was an Italian called Castelli, of medium height and well-shaped figure. He had the olive skin, dark velvety eyes, and the perfect features often found in men who prey on women. He always had women with him. He played a dashing game, superbly indifferent to loss or gain.

Hugh was conscious of an atmosphere of unceasing suspicion. Every day hundreds of false louis were foisted on the bank, and no one knew how it was done. It was impossible to check them. Most of the players were too lazy to cash in before leaving the Casino and the chips continued to circulate in town as freely as money. The Casino inspectors were up on their toes, every one was being watched.

One day there came to him the mood for which he was waiting, the conquering mood. His nerves were of steel, and he felt that he could win a fortune or lose all without turning a hair. He had in his pockets seven packets of five thousand francs each. He sat down at the suicide table and began to play.

It was strange how confident he was. Something was fighting on his side. He could not be beaten. Then to his dismay, he lost the first coup, but won the three following. Again he lost a coup, but gained another two. And so it went on. The scales dipped, now for, now against him. On the whole, however, fortune favoured him, and he steadily drew ahead.

At last the great battle was on. He felt inspired. Silently he sat, watchful, emotionless as a wax figure. His eyes became opaque; and a crease of concentration came between his brows.

“A big game,” the rumour spread. “Come and see.”

The circle of watchers deepened and their interest increased. But to Hugh they were only a dull blur of meaningless faces. No, not all, for he saw one that thrilled him for a moment. It was that of Mrs. Belmire. Then her too he forgot in the stress of the struggle.

And it was in reality a struggle. The bank had abandoned its attitude of disdain, and was directly fighting him. No longer was he a petty “piker” but a foeman worth while. He felt that the eight silent men in black who ran the table were concentrating their wills against his. Psychology was coming into play. He willed that that capricious little ball should go one way; these eight willed it to take another. He would beat them; he would make the ball go where he wanted it to go.

He waited until it was spun; and then, acting from sheer impulse, threw a packet of notes on one of the simple chances. Sometimes he even threw on two chances. The battle swayed. He advanced, he retreated, but only to advance again.

As the spirit of the fight glowed in him, his play increased in boldness. If he fell he would fall gloriously. For once he had the centre of the stage. He would be worthy of the part, of the audience. He began to play on all three simple chances. He won ... and won again. Fortune favoured the brave. Hurrah for the big game! Again a triple shot. Ha! he had lost one of the three that time.... Well, the next time. The grey croupier who was paying did not look at all pleased. No wonder! Handing out mille notes continually from the little grilled box. And the chef de parti was scowling at the little chap who twirled the ball. Hugh won another coup, another fifteen thousand.

“Messieurs, le boule passe.”

The cowards! They were changing the croupier who threw the ball. That one was too unlucky. What a stack of notes he had. Must be nearly a hundred thousand. Ah, the devil! this new man was beating him. He had lost ... lost ... lost. His stack was diminishing. His luck had turned. He heard people asking: “Why doesn’t he stop?” No, he would win back again ... win back. He was dazed. He scarcely knew what he was doing. He was reaching out to play another time when a hand gripped his arm.

“You darned young fool, quit now. Quit while you’re still to the good.”

It was Mr. Gimp. The American dragged him away from the table, followed by the admiring gaze of a hundred eyes. Then in a corner they counted the gains. With his own capital he had fifty-five thousand francs.

He sat on a leather seat in a stupor. He wanted to smoke a cigarette, to go home, but did not have energy enough. Then, when he was finally starting the stranger’s door swung open and Professor Durand made his first entrance into the Rooms.

CHAPTER NINE THE PROFESSOR BEGINS

1.

THE professor advanced with an impressive dignity. Even the two blue-coated attendants who guarded the middle portal stared and gaped. They were used to strange figures, but never had they seen a stranger.

The professor wore a black frock-coat of a bygone day. He carried a brigandish hat in one hand, and a cane with an ebony knob in the other. His silvery hair coiled over his shoulders; his deep, broad beard was patriarchal; he walked with a slow, deliberate step. Every one turned to look at him as he passed.

“It’s Father Christmas,” said a man, and everybody tittered. The name stuck.

But the professor paid no attention to them. He seemed to know just what he wanted to do. He went straight to the table favoured by the system-player, the one next the “Opium Dream Room”, and handed five francs to the sour old lady who takes down the numbers for the Monte Carlo Revue. Promptly she gave him her place.

“Come,” said Hugh to Mr. Gimp, “I know the old chap. He’s queer. Let’s watch him.”

Others too were hastening to watch, and expectancy was in the air. The professor seemed entirely unconscious of the interest he aroused. He carefully installed himself, then took from an inner pocket a long red note-book and a pencil. He asked the old lady to show him her numbers, and copied down the last dozen. Then taking out thirty thousand francs in bills he demanded counters. There was something so elaborately pretentious in these preparations that even the croupiers looked at one another, though they did not lose their contemptuous smiles.

The professor peered through his silver rimmed spectacles at the numbers and sat for awhile, taking down the fresh ones as they occurred, and consulting carefully his long red note-book. Finally he stood up with an air of decision, and put the maximum on thirty-two in every possible way,—en plein, chevals, carrés, transversals, dozens columns, simple chances. When he had finished he had on the table about twenty-five thousand francs. Even the croupiers stared. A thrill of excitement ran through the circle of watchers, but the least moved was the old man. He leaned back and waited with calm confidence for the spin. It came. It was the number thirty-four. He had lost.

Not all, though. It is true he had missed the number, but he had got the three simple chances, the dozen, a transversal double, a carée. He had won about ten thousand francs.

The croupiers shrugged their shoulders. People looked at each other with eyes that said, “Fool’s luck!” The professor again consulted his notes. He seemed a little nonplussed. He allowed three coups to go by without playing, then on the fourth he rose again and built his maximums about the thirty-two.

The croupiers seemed now to realize the dramatic value of the situation. The spinner turned the wheel solemnly as if it were a sacred rite; there was a tense moment, then a thrill ran through the crowd. In a voice that trembled with chagrin the croupier called out:

“Trente deux, rouge pair et passe.”

The old man had won. They paid him carefully and ostentatiously. He gathered the notes in a worn leather wallet, put his note-book and pencil back into his inner pocket, rose and went away. A crowd followed him to the door; inspectors gathered in groups and talked; directors looked down from upper windows. Never had there been such a sensational début.

“It’s fantastic,” said Hugh. “What with my own luck and the professor’s you could bowl me over with a feather. I want to indulge in hysterical laughter.”

“Better indulge in a brandy and soda,” said Mr. Gimp. “I’ll see you home after.”

2.

Hugh found Margot embroidering a piece of white silk. He marvelled at the delicate patience of her fingers.

“How jolly nice. What’s it for?”

“A blouse.”

“Good. You’ll look ripping in that.”

“You think so?... but it’s not for me.”

“Not for you!”

“No, you see, I’ve got some sewing to do. I might as well. I have many spare hours each day. I am trying to make a little money. It’s that nice lingerie shop near the Hotel de Paris.”

“Good Heavens! And how much can you make at that?”

“About five francs a day.”

“The deuce! What would you say if I told you that to-day I had made fifty thousand?”

“You didn’t....”

“I did. It’s true I lost some of it afterwards. Ah! if I’d only stopped in time. But I hung on to thirty thousand.”

Eagerly he took out his sheaf of bills, and spread them before her.

“There! I’ve fifty-five thousand, only five short of the sixty.”

She looked frightened. She laid her hand on his.

“You’ll stop now. Please say you’ll stop.”

“No, I want sixty.”

She was silent, staring with troubled eyes before her, her embroidery in her lap.

“Wake up,” he laughed. “You’re in a trance. What are you thinking of,—your dowry?”

“No, of that rose-covered cottage.”

“Oh, that.... I say, you’re not going on with that embroidery for the sake of making a measly five francs a day?”

“Why not? It’s clean money.”

“Don’t you think this money is clean?”

“No, I might have thought so once; but now ... I’ve had my lesson.”

“I haven’t. It’s good enough for me. Why, it would take me twenty years to save this money in the usual way, and make a wreck of me at the same time. Life’s too hard a battle. We can’t afford to choose our weapons.”

A knock came at the door. It was Professor Durand. The old man had doffed his dignity, and was in slippers and a dressing-gown. He bowed profoundly to Margot, then he said to Hugh with a benevolent smile:

“I saw a light and thought you might have returned. I am lonely. I wonder if you would care to come to my den and smoke a pipe.”

Hugh followed the old man. The room surprised him. There was a steel safe in one corner, a large cabinet, a broad table covered with papers on which were algebraic formulæ and geometrical figures.

“My workshop,” said the professor. “You saw me to-day? Eh, what!”

“Yes, I congratulate you. You made a wonderful beginning.”

“No, I’m not satisfied. My timing was out. To-morrow I’ll do better. I’ll only play once, but I’ll hit it.”

The professor spoke with such conviction that Hugh was impressed.

“Extraordinary! A marvellous system. A discovery.”

“No, not a discovery, an invention. Just as logarithms was an invention. But remember, it took me twenty years to perfect it with all the resources of the higher mathematics at my command. Twenty years! Come, take that easy chair and light up. I’m going to give you a liqueur, some very old Chartreuse; and we’ll talk.”

The professor, however, did most of the talking. “Look,” said he, “at that stack of green volumes. You have there the records of table number two for the past thirteen years. I know that table like a living thing, and yet I never saw it until to-day.”

“I suppose,” said Hugh, “that you base your system on the law of average?”

The professor laughed tolerantly. “No, I don’t. Law of average,—that is child’s talk to me. Of course every table has its average, every wheel has its average, every croupier, you, I; every coup that is played, is an average with something that has gone before. Ah! these foolish system-players with their talk of average and probability and phenomenon. Why, every coup is a phenomenon as regards something that has gone before. These things don’t exist. They are sounding terms that mean nothing. No, the trouble is that all these students of the laws of chance go about it wrongly. Their systems are analytic, mine is synthetic.”

“Do you claim that it is infallible?”

“By no means. You saw me fail to-day. What I do claim is that I will succeed one time out of three.”

“That’s good enough.”

“Good enough to ruin the bank. I won’t stop till I have taken a hundred millions from them. Don’t think I want the money. I won’t touch one sou of it.”

“What will you do with it?”

“I am a patriot. My country is in trouble, in debt. I will give it all to my country.”

“But why do you hate the Casino? Is it revenge?”

“No, retribution. My only son came here, played, lost all ... he’s dead. Now you know the brutal truth. I did not intend to tell any one. It’s painful even after twenty years....”

“I understand....”

“Well, you’ll see me play to-morrow. I’ll take my seat at three o’clock sharp.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I have them in the hollow of my hand. They don’t suspect, they don’t dream. But to-morrow they will begin to be uneasy, and as I close my hand to crush them they will be seized with panic, they will be filled with despair. That will be the time I shall need some one to aid me, to protect me, for I am old. I want a young man full of intelligence, of courage, to guard me, and if need be, to carry on my work. For instance,—you! Now do you understand why I have asked you here to-night, why I have told you all I have?... We’ll talk again of this.”

It was late when Hugh left the old man and returned to his room. Margot was still bent over her embroidery.

“You’ll hurt your eyes,” he remonstrated; but she shook her head obstinately.

“No, I won’t stop. I promised madame I’d finish this for to-morrow.”

3.

When he arrived at the Casino the following afternoon, he saw a crowd collected under the great rubber tree on the edge of the “Cheese.” To his amazement he found that it was gathered around Mrs. Fitzoswald and her little brood. He heard exclamations such as: “The poor dears! What a shame! Such a plucky little woman!”

Mrs. Fitz was excited. The light of battle was in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed. She proclaimed her wrongs to the skies.

“Yes,” she cried, pointing to the Casino, “they ruined him, the dirty rascals. They got all his money and now they’ve thrown him into prison. A mutilé of the war; a man who has given his leg for freedom, thrown into prison like a criminal. But I’ll have justice. I’ll stand here till they release him. Look at his innocent children, without food, without shelter.”

At this the three little girls, aged seven, five and three, began to weep and cling to her. Only the baby in the arms of June Emslie was unmoved, laughing and chuckling at the world.

June explained to Hugh what the trouble was. Major Fitzoswald, it seemed, was expecting money from England and had issued a cheque against it for the rent of his apartment. Unfortunately the money was delayed and the cheque was refused. The landlord appealed to the authorities, who decided to make an example of the major. There had been similar cases and they felt that the citizens must be protected. So two very gorgeous gendarmes had driven Major Fitzoswald to the Rock of Monaco and presumably thrown him into its deepest dungeon. Meanwhile the landlord had put his wife and children on the street.

The English and American colony had been scandalized; it was equivalent to a national insult. They had offered to pay the amount of the cheque ten times over, but the authorities were adamant.

“No,” they had said pompously; “the law must take its course.”

Both the English and American Consuls had been appealed to and had done their best to get the Major released but without result. Public opinion was aroused; prominent men had interviewed the administration, but all to no purpose. The one-legged Major continued to languish in his cell.

Then it was that Mrs. Fitz had come into action and, planting herself with her brood in front of the grand entrance, she cried her woes to the world. A sympathetic crowd gathered, black looks were thrown at the temple of chance, and its all-powerful administration were objurgated. Every one was competing to aid the unfortunate victims. Hugh saw Mr. Fetterstein, the multi-millionaire, descend the steps of the Hotel de Paris, and, to the scandal of the flunkeys, take back with him the whole bedraggled family for luncheon.

As Hugh entered the Casino he found Mr. Gimp in his usual place between the two pillars at the entrance of the atrium.

“Darned shame,” said Mr. Gimp. “Darned fine little woman. Nice kids. I took ’em all to Quinto’s for dinner last night. The whole thing’s a mistake. The Major’s a gallant gentleman, but that bunch of Dago scalawags that run this place are down on British and Americans. They like our money, but that’s all. There’s no law. The Casino gang runs the government. The whole population live on the Casino like lice on a shark. The Prince with his tin-pot army is in their pay. It’s mediæval, fantastic, rotten. And you ask me, then, why do I stay here? I can’t tell you. I just stay.”

Mr. Gimp inhaled his home-made cigarette and snorted out a cloud of disgust.

“Say, I heard a good story of this place! A guy once committed a crime. They ought to have guillotined him; but as they didn’t have a guillotine, they decided to imprison him for life. They threw him into a cell, but soon it became such a nuisance to cook his food, that they transferred him to a small hut near the frontier, hoping he would escape. They had his meals sent in to him from a neighbouring restaurant. But when the bills came in, they drew a long face. He cost some, this prisoner. They decided to pardon him, but he consulted a lawyer, and found that his pardon was irregular. He refused to accept it. Finally to get rid of him they had to pay him a big sum to escape. That’s a sample of how things are run here.... Look, there’s your friend the professor.”

4.

The sensation in Casino circles caused by Mrs. Fitzoswald was as nothing compared to the excitement aroused by the second appearance of the professor. The news ran like an electric thrill from one end of the Rooms to the other. It communicated itself to the stolid blue-coated lackeys; to the wary, black-coated officials with their tiny cards, even to the callous croupiers themselves.

The professor stumped across the room leaning on his cane; the old lady gave him her place as before. Every one made way for him. He was the star player. Again he went through the same programme with note-book and pencil. He consulted the previous numbers and quickly came to a decision. But instead of buying chips as formerly, he handed the croupier the exact sum to play his series of maximums. Then he announced his number,—Five.

It took some time to place the money correctly. The croupier did so with unction. His actions had all the solemnity of a ceremonial. Finally every stake was correctly placed. Excitement held the crowd spellbound. With a determination at all cost to avoid the five, the spinner threw the ball. It whirled around smoothly, then dropped amid the diamond-shaped studs, dodged, rebounded, zig-zagged, fell. A great shout arose. A sullen voice announced: “Cinq, rouge impair et manque.”

Again the professor took up his gains and stumped his way through the admiring crowd. Once more he had gained over sixty thousand francs.

On the following day he made his appearance a little after noon; the Rooms were at their quietest. On this occasion he seemed less sanguine of success. He made two shots but in neither case did he strike the number. However, his gains on his indirect stakes balanced his losses, and he rose from the table in a few minutes neither richer nor poorer. The Casino people breathed more freely. They had been puzzled and a little worried. They transferred their attention to the other and equally pressing problems.

As time went on, more and more of the false chips were being forced on the bank. Hugh felt the atmosphere of suspicion daily increasing in intensity. Black-coated inspectors and spies were everywhere. No one’s affairs were private. The secret police were making desperate efforts to discover the fabricators of the false counters, but their efforts so far had resulted only in the conviction of a croupier for petty pilfering. He had done it by pretending to scratch his neck, and, in so doing, dropping a louis down his collar. They did not put him in prison, but hung a placard around his neck with I AM A THIEF printed on it, and marched him around Monaco before his friends and relations. Finally they kicked him across the frontier.

Mrs. Fitzoswald, too, was giving them no small worry. The little woman was conducting her campaign with skill and tenacity. She was to be seen at all hours of the day in front of the Casino, relating her misfortunes to a sympathizing audience. Her children with tear-stained cheeks ably supported her. People felt that it was unfair to have their feelings harrowed when they came to enjoy themselves. Complaint after complaint reached the administration, which at last decided to take action. They offered to pay her passage and that of her children to England if she would go away at once.

“What, go without my husband! Never! Release him and pay his passage, too. That’s my ultimatum.”

The authorities refused. Negotiations were broken off.

On the fourth day the professor again made his appearance in the afternoon; and again repeated his performance of the second day. The directors were in a state of consternation. For the first time they began to think that here was that inconceivable thing, a man with an invincible system. All Monte Carlo was talking of it. They awaited events with the greatest anxiety.

CHAPTER TEN THE COMPACT

1.

AS the following day was Sunday the professor did not play. Instead he went to early mass accompanied by Margot, to whom he had taken a fancy, and in the afternoon the two went for a walk together in the direction of Menton. They asked Hugh to accompany them but he refused.

To tell the truth he had other fish to fry. Since his success, he had blossomed out in many ways. Some time before he had been to a good tailor and had several suits made. He had developed a fondness for the American Bar of the Café de Paris, and had become increasingly intimate with Mrs. Belmire.

At first he had merely admired her immensely; he was flattered by her interest in him and had found a kind of heady pleasure, like champagne, in her society. In the end he had become really fascinated. Then one day something happened that acted on him like a spur. He was walking along the road to Beaulieu when a big carmine car swung round a bend. He recognized Vulning at the wheel. He thought the lady with him seemed familiar, but it was not until she looked back laughingly and waved her hand that he saw it was Mrs. Belmire.

If it had been any other man he would not have minded. He knew she went about with Fetterstein and one or two others. But Vulning!... He disliked Vulning. He realized with a shock that he was jealously infatuated with the lady.

On this particular Sunday afternoon he had arranged to motor with her to Brodighera. He was happy in the thought that he would have her all to himself for four radiant hours.

They had not been long on the road when she said sweetly:

“You poor boy! I believe we nearly ran you down the other day. You looked ever so startled. Paul always drives so recklessly. He gives me all kinds of thrills.”

“Why do you go out with him then?” Hugh snapped.

She looked at him curiously. There was a gleam of amused satisfaction in her eye.

“Why shouldn’t I? I love thrills. Besides he’s an old friend. Good gracious! I don’t believe you like him.”

“Why should I?”

“Oh, he’s not a bad sort. A bit blasé and all that sort of thing. But ... well, you don’t know him.”

“We have met.”

“Have you really? I asked him after we had passed if he knew you, and he said he didn’t. He meets so many I suppose he forgot. He’s much sought after.”

Hugh grew more savage. Again he snapped. “I don’t believe he’s the man a woman should be seen with often if she values her reputation.”

“Her reputation!”

Hugh thought she was going to be angry. She stared at him a moment, then suddenly said: “Oh you funny boy! You nice boy! I like you so much for that. But ... I do believe you’re jealous of Paul Vulning.”

“Why should I be?”

“Because he’s so like you. You’ve got the same regular features, the same fair hair. You’re both tall and rather slight. But you needn’t resent all that. Paul is a rather soiled man of the world; you are a nice clean boy who might be fresh from Oxford.”

She looked at him thoughtfully.

“I’d like to keep you as you are, but it might be better for yourself if you were a little more sophisticated. I have half a mind to take you in hand, to educate you in the ways of the world. May I?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“No, I didn’t think you would. You are a little—may I say it?—naïve sometimes.... I say, don’t you admire my new blouse? I just got it this morning. The embroidery’s so pretty, I think.”

Something in the design struck Hugh as familiar. Yes, it was the work he had seen Margot sitting up so late to finish.

“You look so serious. Don’t you like it?”

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“I think so too. By the way, why don’t you begin to gamble again? You play so well and you are so lucky. You must join the Club. You might make lots of money. Talking about horrid money reminds me ... mine hasn’t arrived and I’m rather low again. You may lend me another mille if you like.”

On the way back they overtook an old man and a girl. It was Margot and the professor. Margot’s arms were full of flowers. Hugh waved to them, and the professor waved back. Margot only stared. Hugh felt uncomfortable. He was sorry he had encountered them.

When he reached home the room was bright with blossoms. Margot was very quiet. She did not refer to their meeting and neither did he. But for some reason for which he could not account, he did not care to meet her eyes.

2.

On his way to the Casino, the next day, he missed the usual crowd at the edge of the “Cheese,” and hunting up Mr. Tope inquired after Mrs. Fitzoswald.

“Haven’t you heard? The Casino capitulated. They had the Major released and paid the fares of the whole family to England. They all went off this morning.”

“And June Emslie?”

“I believe she got a job as a nurse girl or something with a family in Menton.”

“Poor girl!”

“I say, let me tell you once more, there’s the very wife for a lad like you. Why don’t you marry her? Just as sweet as a rose, and badly up against it.”

Hugh laughed and was glad of the diversion caused by the entrance of the Calderbrooks.

“Hullo! They’ve come back. I’ve missed them for some time,” he exclaimed.

“They were lying low. No money! Now they’ve got out some more and are starting in again. I’m told they’ve sold or mortgaged their property in England and taken an apartment here. In a few years’ time they will be just like all the other derelicts, haunting the Casino with no money to play, seedy, down at heel, sodden. You know the sort. Look around; you’ll see enough of ’em.”

Mrs. Calderbrook with a resolute look, was stalking in front; the girl Alicia, tall and slender, followed; the father with his wistful blue eye and drooping grey moustache trailed after them.

Hugh had heard that Alicia had been engaged to a young ex-aviator who had bought a ranch in Alberta. She had expected to have joined him as soon as possible, but Monte Carlo had thrown its spell over her. The thought of a lonely ranch on the prairie became unbearable and she broke off the engagement. She would probably never have another chance to marry.

To Hugh’s surprise he did not find MacTaggart in his usual place under the Three Graces, but instead, in his seat was Mr. Gimp.

“Yep,” said Mr. Gimp, sourly, “I’m old Mac’s deputy. Hate like hell to do this but he’s sick. He was getting out of bed, wanted to crawl down anyway, hated to lose his records. I made him go back and told him I’d take his place. It’s all damned rot, you know. I might as well put down any old numbers and give them to him. It would be the same in the end. Howsoever, I’m conscientious.”

“Is he very sick?”

“Nerves mostly. The success of your old friend, the professor, gave him a nasty jar. Kind o’ destroyed his confidence in his own system. Say, you want to tell the old boy to be careful. He was in this morning early, played five shots, and got the bulls-eye twice. Carried off over a hundred thousand francs.”

“Why should he be careful?”

“Because the Casino folks ain’t goin’ to stand that sort o’ thing indefinitely. They’re gettin’ scared; and believe me, when they get scared they’ll get desperate. It stands to reason, they ain’t goin’ to let themselves be ruined if they can help it. The old fellow seems to have some way of spotting a winner, or getting so close to it he breaks even. It’s plain now it ain’t all accident. Well, if he can make fifty thousand a day he can just as well make two hundred thousand ... and then let him look out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, if he went on, they’d just have to close their doors. Not only the Casino would be ruined but the Principality. D’ye think they’re goin’ to stand for that?”

“They could expel him.”

“What good would that do? He could put some one else on. No, the only way would be to suppress both him and his system; and believe me, they won’t stick at half measures to do it. I don’t say as they’ll stoop to crime; but there’s men in their pay as ain’t so scrupulous. There’s the existence of the whole community at stake. Accidents can happen. What’s a man’s life compared with the ruin of twenty thousand people? Believe me, the professor’s playin’ a dangerous game.”

Hugh left Mr. Gimp sitting on one of the side benches still sourly taking down the hated numbers. He mooned round the rooms, thinking more of Mrs. Belmire than of the play. She had called him naïve; that had hurt his vanity. Was he naïve?

Mrs. Belmire had urged him to go on gambling, but he had baulked. Of course, she thought he had plenty of money, and that his winnings at roulette meant little to him. On the contrary they meant so much to him that he was determined to hold on to them at all costs. Of his fifty-five thousand five had already melted away. He had loaned her two and had spent another two on clothes. Perhaps it was the lesson that poverty had taught him in his youth, perhaps it was due to his Scottish ancestry, but he had a curious streak of prudence in him. He had deposited fifty thousand francs in the bank and was determined not to touch it.

Since his last spectacular performance at the tables, a reaction had set in. He found himself almost in the same state of indifference that he had been before he had begun to play. His sudden passion for gambling seemed to have spent itself, and he wondered how he could ever have been so obsessed.

Fifty thousand francs! Yes, he had been miraculously lucky. It seemed like providence. He would buy a car and a cottage, and spend his spare time in painting. As for Mrs. Belmire, he would tell her just how matters stood. But not just yet. Perhaps he would allow her to educate him a little first. No more roulette though; not even for tobacco money. No opportunities, however good, would tempt him. Confound Mrs. Belmire! She had said that she was dining that evening with Paul Vulning. She had made a point of telling him about it, he believed.

3.

He spent three days painting at Cap Ferrat. He started early each morning and returned late, drunk with fresh air and sunshine. Then on the fourth day he rested and found his way in due course to the Casino. Mr. Gimp was still replacing MacTaggart.

“I expect Mac will be on deck again to-morrow,” Mr. Gimp said in response to his inquiry. “He can’t afford to lie off much longer. You know he’s working on a mere two or three hundred francs of capital. He lives on fifteen francs a day. If he don’t make ’em, he goes hungry. I know for a fact, lots of nights, he makes a supper of dry bread. That’s what’s killing him,—the worry of making his day. If he could afford to play with higher stakes, say louis instead of five franc pieces, it would be different. He’s got all kinds of faith in his system; sure there’s a fortune in it.”

“I had no idea he was so short.”

“Oh, there’s lots like that,—a good front and behind it starvation.... Just look at that Dago Castelli,—there’s a dashing, sporty player if you like.”

The handsome Italian was playing a brilliant paroli game. He played between three tables, putting a louis on each of the simple chances. If they were swept away he replaced them; if they won he left them on with the louis of gain. He continued to leave on stake and gains for six wins, then he took them up. This did not occur very often; but when it did it netted him thirty-two louis. The game was an unusual one, lively, easy to play, and interesting. Castelli always played this same game, and frequently with great success. That day, however, runs of six were rare and his louis were being swept away like leaves before the wind.

Hugh persisted in his decision not to play. He saw chance after chance to win, but let them go by. He was finished. He turned from the game and watched the players. The woman in grey came and went, always throwing a louis on number one. He saw her play several times at three different tables but without success. After looking on awhile, she went slowly away. The latest rumour he had heard concerning her was that she was a celebrated actress who had recently been acquitted of a case of crime passionel.

As he was wondering who she really was, a curious conversation attracted his attention. A big, ruddy Englishman was talking to a small shabby individual with a blotched face and gold-rimmed spectacles. The little man was saying:

“In six weeks from to-day you will pay me fifteen thousand francs. To-day I give you thirteen thousand, five hundred. That is understood, is it not?”

“Yes, that is understood.”

“But what about exchange? If the franc goes down in value, you will have gained. In that case you will pay me the difference. Is that understood?”

“Yes, that is understood.”

The little man took from his note-book a prepared slip of paper and the Englishman signed it with a fountain pen. The little man counted out thirteen thousand five hundred francs in notes and his companion took them, and threw a thousand on the first table. He lost, and without trying to regain them went off to the private rooms.

Hugh decided to go home. As he was crossing the “Hall of Light,” he saw Castelli sauntering in front of him. What a handsome chap that Italian was. What a favourite he must be with women. He was speaking to one now.... No, he had turned and was in conversation with the chief inspector of the Rooms. After a moment they disappeared together through one of the glass doors that works with a hidden catch.

On all sides Hugh heard wonderful accounts of the professor. For three days the old man had won seventy thousand francs a day. Half the profits of the Casino were going into his pocket. It was said the administration was becoming desperate.

4.

Mr. Jarvis Tope had a source of secret information. His landlord was a retired croupier and the two were excellent friends. In this way he came to know many matters not revealed to the public, and he was very discreet about disseminating his information.

“By the way,” he said to Hugh, “you’ve heard that a gang are passing counterfeit louis in Casino money?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they’ve got one of them at least. In his room in Nice they found a suit-case full of it. You’ve probably seen the chap.”

“Who.”

“His name is Castelli....”

“No!”

“Yes. They got him two days ago, but they have been watching him for weeks. Some very sharp person on the Casino detective staff noticed that he seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of louis. That put them on the track. They’ve expelled him from the Principality. Well, that’s one worry off their shoulders. Their other one is your old friend, the professor. There they’ve got a tough nut to crack, I fear.”

“Do you think they’ll crack it?”

“Think! I know. A word in your ear. You tell the old chap to get out. Get him away in a car, far and fast. They’ve simply got to get that system, to get him. You understand. If they wish to save themselves from ruin, neither he nor his system must continue to exist. They’re only waiting now to make sure he’s got them. They can’t buy him off. They can’t let him escape. I say, I wouldn’t be in that old man’s shoes for all the money he’s made. Sounds melodramatic, I know. You think I exaggerate. You don’t know this place. Get him away, I say. Lose no time. Don’t laugh. I know.”

Hugh was so disturbed that he knocked that night on the old man’s door.

“Who’s there?”

“Your neighbour.”

There was a turning of locks and the professor appeared. He had been working out his play for the next day.

“Come in. Do you know I was just coming to see you. I want to enter into an arrangement with you.”

“Yes.”

“I want protection. Twice I believe my life to have been attempted. Twice I have nearly been run down by a car. The first time I thought it was accidental, but I noticed it was the same car....”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I hope so. In any case I want you to accompany me to the Casino and back, and to stay with me when I play. I’ll pay you anything you like. A thousand francs a day if you agree.”

“I don’t want pay. I’ll be glad to help you.”

“Ah, I knew I could count on you. But look here, young man, I warn you it’s dangerous.”

“All right. But for your own sake, hadn’t you better try to compromise with them?”

“Never. They’ve already approached me. They said they didn’t believe in my system, but were willing to buy it. They offered me ten million francs in Casino stock. I told them, if they offered me a hundred million, I would refuse. They advised me to reconsider my decision. They were very courteous, said they were acting in the public interest and so on. Oh, they talked smoothly enough, but I could see the menace behind.... Look here!”

The professor went to the safe, twirled the combination, opened the heavy door and took out a leather bound folio.

“Here it is, the condensed result of all my labours, the explanation of my system. It is all in cypher. I want you to learn the six different cyphers I use.”

“Why?”

“Because, if anything should happen to me, I want you to avenge me. All you have to do is to publish this to the world. Their ruin will be complete. Hush!” The Professor went quickly to the door and threw it open. No one was there.

“I’m getting so nervous. It seems to me I’m watched all the time. You’ll promise, won’t you? You’ll be my protector, my assistant, my partner? You hesitate. Are you afraid?”

“Afraid! no.”

“All right. Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Your hand on it. To-morrow we’ll begin.”

END OF BOOK THREE