It had rained all day, a miserable drizzling rain, cold and foggy.
The horses had remained in the stables, the dogs in the kennels, and the
fox in the chicken-coop. I stole out during luncheon to take a look at
Master Reynard. He looked shamefaced and bedraggled enough, shut up in
that coop. I felt sorry for him, and told Mrs. Chadwick so.
"At least you might have given him a chicken for company," I said. "He
looked disgusted with life."
Mrs. Chadwick smiled and remarked that she would see that Master Reynard
had his chicken.
"Do you think he would prefer it broiled or baked?"
From then on I had played ping-pong, bridge and billiards, and made
violent love to three or four married women because it was safe, and
easy, and politic--and exciting. I had an idea for a story, but needed a
married woman's opinion as to how it should properly end.
The end was still hidden in a nebulous uncertainty as the colonel (our
host) led us men into the armory, with its huge fireplace, its long
basswood table upon which we had at various times carved our initials,
its gunracks and trophies of the chase. A servant passed around fine
Scotch and brandy and soda, with which we proceeded to tonic our
appetites; for dinner was to be announced within an hour. I took out my
penknife and went on with my uncompleted carving.
Renwood, who owned a fine racing-stable, brought up the subject which
had interested us during the mail hour that morning: the losses which
Cranford had suffered in an exclusive gambling house in New York City.
"Thirty thousand is a fat lump to lose this side of the Atlantic,"
Renwood observed.
"Not beyond the Rockies," added Collingwood, who had done some fancy
mining in Nevada. "I saw Judge Blank lose seventy-five thousand at faro
one night in Carson City."
"What did Cranford play,--roulette or faro?" I asked.
"The papers say roulette," replied Renwood. "It's a bad game. There is
some chance at faro, if the game is square. But roulette; bah! It is
plain robbery."
"The blind Madonna of the Pagan, as Stevenson called chance," mused the
colonel, lighting a cigar. "I often wonder if gambling is not as much a
particle of our blood as salt. Perhaps you have all wondered why I never
have kept a racing-stable, why I play bridge and poker for fun. I
remember--"
Chairs moving noisily in the colonel's direction interrupted him. I
doubled up my knife and carried my Scotch to his end of the table.
"If it's a story, Colonel," said Old Fletcher, navy, retired, "let's
have it."
The colonel took out his watch and eyed it critically.
"We have just three-quarters of an hour. Did you ever hear of how I
broke one of the roulette banks at Monte Carlo?"
"Why, you old reprobate!" exclaimed Fletcher; "you've just told us that
you never gambled."
"I merely said that I do not," replied the colonel.
"Broke the bank?" cried Renwood. "You never told me about that."
"I have never told any one. I ought not to tell you--"
"You can't back out of it now," said I.
"Not in a thousand years," echoed Fletcher. "If you took any gold away
from Monte Carlo, I want to hear all about it."
"Very well," acquiesced the colonel; "but the tale must not go beyond
this armory;" and he looked at me as he said it.
"Oh, I shouldn't mention any names," I declared; "and I should twist it
around some."
There was an interval of silence, broken only by the rattling of the
ice in Collingwood's glass.
Our host was a man of about forty-eight. His hair was white, but his
face was youthful and amazingly handsome; and I knew many a woman who
envied Mrs. Chadwick, even as many a man envied the colonel. I never saw
a handsomer pair, or a pair so wrapt up in each other. I shall let the
colonel tell his own story, which needs no embellishments from me.
In the spring of 1887 I packed up and took passage for England. The
slump in Wall Street the preceding winter had left me with only seven
thousand in cash, and this estate heavily mortgaged. The only way I
could save the seven thousand and what remained of the property was to
get away from the Street.
I made my sister a short visit. I had been one of the ushers at her
wedding, and her husband, Lord Rexford, thought I was a jolly good lad
because I was the only sober man at the bachelor dinner at the
Richmond. This was due to a little invention of my own which I acquired
at Harvard in my college days: putting plenty of olive oil on my salad.
I played golf over his lordship's course, fished and hunted over his
really fine preserves; and in return told him not to invest in Southern
Pacific till the following year.
It was my misfortune to run into Jack Smeed in London. He was a
classmate of mine, and one of the best fellows that ever lived. But he
was the most splendid spendthrift I ever came across. He showed me Paris
as few foreigners have seen it.
At that time he was a famous war correspondent, art critic and poet. He
inveigled me and my seven thousand to Dieppe. It was still summer. One
night we visited a gambling casino. I had gambled in stocks, but had
never played straight gambling, thinking it too tame a sport for a
speculator. Tame! I smile these days when I think of my adventure; but
heaven knows I did not smile then.
Very well. Smeed aroused the latent gambler's blood in my veins, and I
began to play.
"Never play a system," said Smeed one night, after having won something
like ten thousand francs. "Systems make gambling a vice. Take your
chance on any old number, if it's roulette. If you are lucky you will
win, no matter where you play. Systems and suicides were born of the
same mother."
A week later he received one of those historic telegrams, calling him to
some African outbreak, or Indian, I can't recall which. At any rate, it
left me alone in Dieppe. I had been passably fortunate at roulette; that
is to say, I invariably won back what I lost. I believe I had about five
thousand of the original seven. Dieppe is very enticing in the summer:
the bands, the hotels, the handsome women, the military and the sea.
The night after Smeed had gone I sauntered over to the tables and played
a modest stake, won and lost, won and lost again. The blind Madonna was
merely flirting with me, luring me on.
I suddenly threw restraint to the winds, and plunged. I won heavily,
and then began to lose. Unconsciously I had discovered a system, and
like a stubborn fool I stuck to it--29 and 26. Neither of these numbers
came up till more than four thousand of my capital had taken its place
at the croupier's elbow. I had been sensible enough to leave some of my
money at the hotel.
I went away from the tables, perspiring and burning with fever. I cursed
the blind Madonna, and counted over the money I had remaining. It was
exactly seven hundred. This would pay my passage home.
But the spirit of gambling ran riot in my veins. Besides, I thirsted for
revenge. What! give up? Bah! all or nothing!
I returned, and placed the seven hundred on black. I won. I stuffed the
original stake in my pocket and put the winnings on the odd. I won
again. I had twenty-one hundred; so I stopped and watched the game. I
observed a handsome young boy plunging madly; he was losing, but in a
lordly fashion.
When I got back to my room I flipped up a coin to see whether I should
stay in Dieppe or leave in the morning for Paris, where my sister was a
guest of the wife of one of the British _attachés_.
When a man gambles he wants to do it thoroughly. Heads, I was to go;
tails, I was to remain and buck the tiger. Heads it fell; and I packed
my trunk. No more of the blind Madonna for me, I vowed. I had had
enough, perhaps more than enough. But one does not lose the habit
overnight.
On the way from Dieppe to Paris a veiled woman entered my carriage,
which was third, nothing else being obtainable. Rather, she entered
immediately after I did. She was accompanied by a young man of
twenty-one or two. His face was good to look at, but at present it was
marred by sullen chagrin and despair. Occasionally I saw the girl's
hands close convulsively. These hands were so beautifully small and
white that I was anxious to see their owner's face; but this pleasure
was denied me.
Presently she addressed me in German, inquiring the time we should
reach Paris.
I don't know what possessed me, but I replied in French that I did not
understand German. She repeated the question in French, and I answered.
The young man took out his fob, and I could see that his watch was gone.
Half an hour passed. I tried to read the magazines, but invariably found
myself gazing in the direction of the girl. After a space I heard her
address the young man in German.
"What have you done? What have you done?" It was a very pathetic voice,
verging on tears.
"Curse it, what's the use of taking on so? The money's gone; sniveling
won't bring it back." He thrust his hands into his pockets and scowled
at his boots. Suddenly he raised his eyes and stared suspiciously at me.
Evidently an idea struck him. "Betty, perhaps this fellow opposite can
understand German."
I never turned a hair. Somehow I was positive that he was the girl's
brother. And just then it occurred to me that I had seen his face
before, but where, I could not tell.
"But what shall we do? You dare not write home, and I have given you all
but passage money, and I will not let you have that."
She was not German, but she spoke that language with a sweetness and
fluency impossible to describe.
"But the pater will stand another call from you," the youth declared.
"And immediately suspect the cause. Oh, that you should do such a thing!
And I trusted you! Something told me not to let you carry the money."
"Oh, bother!" This was said in good English; and I looked over the top
of my magazine.
"What made you do it?" wailed the girl. "Six thousand pounds, and father
gave five of it to you to buy consols with. It will break his heart, and
mother's too. It was all the ready money he had."
"Curse it, I'd have broke the bank in another moment. But 17, 20 and 32
never came up till all my cash was gone. Why, I had the maximum on
black, even, the second dozen, and 20, one play. If it had come up I'd
have broke the bank."
"But it didn't come up; it never does. What will you do? What excuse
will you have?"
"I can tell the pater that I was robbed,"--lamely.
"You wouldn't lie, Dick!"
"Oh, of course not. I'll get it of old Uncle Lewis. My chance at the
estate is worth twenty times six thousand. Damn the luck!" The youth
swore softly in his native tongue, and I could see the sparkle of a tear
behind the girl's veil.
Ah! I recollected. It was the young fellow whom I had seen at the
Casino, plunging heavily. These roulette wheels were pretty gruesome
things. I congratulated myself on being out of it. But I passed the
congratulations a little too early, as will be seen. Your Uncle Lewis, I
thought, would never get his pawnbroker's claws on any of my property.
When I arrived in Paris I never expected to see them again. But the
blind Madonna of the Pagan is not always concerning herself with
roulette banks.
I remained in Paris till February. My sister helped me out of her
private purse. Probably she would not have done so had she known how
deeply I had pledged the old homestead. I began to feel like myself
again. I cabled my brokers to buy July wheat, and mailed a thousand for
margin.
From Paris I went to Nice. I met some Americans there. The gambling
fever seemed to possess them all. I was dragged into the maelstrom. I
became mad and unreasoning.
I arrived at Monaco with exactly one hundred louis. By this time I had
mortgaged the estate to the last penny. I was nearing that precipice
over which all gamblers finally tumble: ruin. Ruin makes a man reckless,
defiant, devil-may-care. Heavens! what luck I had had! The gold had
melted away "like snow upon the desert's dusty face."
Right in the middle of this fever came a call from Wall Street for more
margin. I cabled back to my brokers to go, one and all, to the hottest
place they could think of. I dared not ask my sister for any assistance,
for she abhorred gambling of all kinds. Besides, I had some pride left.
You wouldn't have believed all this of me, would you? But it is all true
enough.
I had very serious thoughts of cashing in all my checks, and making the
prince pay for my funeral. I shook my fist at his yacht which lay in the
harbor below.
I made an inventory, and found that I possessed one hundred louis, and
some twenty-odd pieces of miscellaneous coin. I wandered about till
night, when I ate a remarkably good dinner, topping it off with a pint
of chambertin and champagne mixed. This gave me a splendid courage.
At ten I took a promenade through the gardens and listened to the band,
which is one of the finest in the world. They were playing Strauss
waltzes. It was warm. To the north lay the mountain, to the south the
Mediterranean trembled in the moonlight; the lights of the many private
yachts twinkled. It was a mighty fair world--to those of cool blood and
unruffled conscience. I jingled the louis, smoked three or four cigars,
then directed my steps toward the Casino.
I immediately sought out that table which is close to the famous
painting of the girl and the horse. I forget what you call the picture.
The croupier was wizened and bald. Somehow I fancied that I saw 29 in
the construction of his eyes and nose. So I placed a louis on that
number. I won. Immediately I put fifty louis on the odd and fifty on the
black, leaving my winnings on the lucky number. The ball rolled into
zero. Very coolly I searched through my pockets. I put what silver I
found on black. The ball tumbled into number 1, which is red.
I was, in the parlance of the day, absolutely strapped. My dinner had
not been paid for, even. I lit a cigar. I even recalled seeing an actor
play this piece of bravado. I arose from my chair, and flecked the ashes
from my shirt bosom. I stared at the girl and the horse for a brief
space and felt of my watch! Hello! I still had that, and with its jewels
it was worth about four hundred dollars. I hurried back to the hotel and
saw the proprietor. After an hour's dickering he consented to loan me
five hundred francs on it. I wisely paid my bill for three days in
advance.