with terror. Amazement turned him to stone. Then suddenly he recovered
himself; and his astonishment changed to disgust.
“Well,” he said in a hard voice, “caught you in the act, didn’t I?”
She did not answer.
“I’m sorry, very sorry. I’d rather it had been any one else. Tell me,
is there any reason I shouldn’t hand you over to the police?”
No answer.
“Speak, please. Is there any reason?...”
Her arms dropped. She straightened up, and looked him full in the face.
“There is. I’m starving. I haven’t tasted food for two days....” Then
she sank at his feet.
2.
Two hours later they were in a lonely corner of a restaurant. She had
satisfied her hunger, and was sitting silent, downcast, sullen.
He looked at her with keen, bright eyes. “Poor little devil!” he
thought, “perhaps she isn’t so bad after all.” Then aloud he said:
“I suppose when you went to the Twitcher’s room your intention was to
steal?”
She hesitated. After all, what did it matter? “Yes,” she answered. “I
went down there to steal.”
“You also stole the money belonging to the Swede women....”
“No, I didn’t do that. I swear I didn’t....”
He looked at her steadily. He did not believe her.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s going to become of you?”
“I don’t know.”
He leaned back, his hands clasping his knee. He noted a tress of bright
gold hair coiling over her hollow cheek.
“I mustn’t leave her to her fate,” he thought.
Bending forward he said impulsively: “Look here, let me lend you some
money.”
A deep flush stained her cheek. He, too, was one of them ... the
beasts. Sharply she answered:
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t choose to accept your aid.”
“It seems to me you’re not in a position to refuse it; you haven’t
a _sou_. To-morrow you’re to be turned out of your room. Madam will
certainly keep all your belongings. You will have nowhere to go. You
have no friends here. You are not fit to do any work. You are on the
verge of a break-down. Again I ask ... what’s going to become of you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Look here ... suppose I lay a charge against you of
entering my room with intent to steal,--will you deny it?”
“No.”
“Well then, you are in my power. You must submit to my conditions.”
She looked at him sullenly. “What are they?”
“I’m not going to lend you any money, but I am going to help you in my
own way. First of all, I want you to promise me that you will never
enter the Casino again.”
She laughed bitterly. “I’ll promise that. I hate the place.”
“Now, I’m taking a room in the Condamine. I want you to come there and
be my housekeeper.”
She could not keep the contempt out of her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said sharply. “I see you don’t
understand.”
“You don’t mean ... _that_?”
“No, damn it, I don’t mean--_that_.”
She looked at him with new interest, steadily, wonderingly. He went
on: “It’s a big room. We’ll divide it into three, with screens and
curtains. There will be your part, and my part, and a common one to be
used as a kitchen and dining-room. Don’t fear. You’ll be as safe behind
your curtain as if you were in a room with doors double-locked.”
She had never met a man like this. Wonder widened her eyes. He laughed
to see it, a frank boyish laugh.
“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I don’t see why it won’t work, though. If
I were a Frenchman, it surely wouldn’t. But we Anglo-Saxons are a
cold-blooded lot. We’re idealists, given to doing strange, mad things.
I give you my word of honour I will respect you as I would a sister.
There you have it. We will be brother and sister. We are enough alike
to pass for that. I had intended to do my own cooking, but that will
be your job now. Then, while you are resting quietly and getting back
your health, I will attack the Casino and get back your money.”
“How will you do that?”
“By playing. I hate to play, but if I do I have an idea I can win. At
least I can afford to risk a thousand francs and with that I propose to
win back the two thousand you need to take you to Paris.”
“No, no. You mustn’t play. No one ever wins there. You’ll lose
everything.”
“Leave it to me. Come on now, it’s decided. That you trust me, is all
I ask. Everything will come out right. In six weeks I promise you I’ll
send you back to Paris with enough money to start your little shop.
Brother and sister,--_n’est ce pas?_”
She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I am in your hands. You can do
with me as you will.”
Again he laughed that boyish laugh. “There! don’t look so tragic.
Everything’s lovely. Come on, we’ll get back to the pension.”
They walked in silence through the exotic gardens. The pink clock in
the tower of the Casino pointed to half an hour after midnight; the
shutters were descending over the entrance doors. He looked at the
place with a new interest. Hitherto it had meant nothing to him. Now
he saw in it an antagonist. He was looking on a battle-ground where he
would win or fall. On the morrow the fight would begin.
So absorbed was he that he forgot the girl by his side. Then a soft
sound aroused him. He looked down and saw that she was crying.
END OF BOOK TWO
BOOK THREE
_The Wheel_
CHAPTER ONE
THE TEMPLE OF CHANCE
1.
Monte Carlo is various kinds of a jewel. In the morning it glitters
like a diamond; in the afternoon it gleams like a great pearl of the
Orient; in the evening it glows with the mellow lustre of a sapphire.
It has its moods of invincible beauty. There are times when one wonders
if it is real and not the fabric of a dream. But of all its moods its
glamour is, perhaps, most felt in that mellow moment that precedes the
setting of the sun. From earth and sky exhales a great serenity. In the
golden air, a thousand windows shine like casements of romance, the
sea melts placidly into the tranquil sky, and the mountains breathe
tenderness and calm.
It was at such a moment, reassuring to the soul, that Hugh, for the
first time, mounted the seven steps that led to the temple of chance.
The sun gleamed on the brass rods of the carpet, gleamed on the gold
braid of the four porters who guarded the entrance, gleamed on the
buttons of the little page boys that swung open the double doors.
Behind the glass partition, leaning on a brass rail, and scrutinizing
every one who climbed the steps, were three detectives. Characteristic
of the place,--the eager welcome; the watching detectives!
Hugh mounted the steps and paused at the top, just as he had seen so
many others pause to look over the scene.
Beyond the “Cheese,” the central garden was a vivid emerald, enamelled
with patterns of pansies; a breeze, pure and delicious, rustled the
palms. Daintily dressed children were throwing crumbs to the lethargic
pigeons. A shining Rolls Royce floated past and anchored in front
of the Hotel de Paris, while a tall negro in a swallow-tail uniform
descended in stately fashion and opened its doors. The space in front
of the Café de Paris was starred with striped umbrellas and coloured
with gay groups. The Roumanian orchestra was playing with sparkling
abandon and a crowd was whirling around the “Cheese.” The English
dominated the throng;--tall, thin women with patrician noses, tall,
thin men with grey hair and lean, fresh faces. It was a suave picture
of elegance and ease.
Turning to the left Hugh entered the bureau of admission. The Nice
train had just come in and behind the high curved counter the clerks
cowered before the clamouring crowd. Seated at a commanding desk was
the chief of the bureau, an owl like man with a crabbed air; he was the
final arbitror, the judge from whom there was no appeal. Before him
was a Swiss aubergiste who was trying to explain that if the clothes
he wore were not good enough for the Casino, he could change them for
better. Another rejected one, a stout woman who had foolishly given her
occupation as a dress-maker, was pointing out that the lady ahead of
her who had just been granted a card was a _femme galante_, one of her
clients who even owed her money. But to such protests no attention was
paid. A blank look, a shrug of the shoulders,--that was all. Judged by
Casino standards and found wanting, they had to go away disconsolate.
Hugh, however, had no such trouble. A brisk little interpreter bustled
up; and he slipped a bill into the man’s hand. He was pushed forward in
front of the others.
“This gentleman is known to me,” said the interpreter with fluent
audacity. “He is a celebrated _artist dramatic de Londres_.”
So Hugh assumed the air of a _jeune premier_, and with many polite
smiles was handed a card.
“Now,” he murmured, “for the next step in the gambler’s progress!”
A courteous flunkey ushered him into the atrium, a galleried hall
designed to impress the visitor and put him in the proper frame of
mind to enter the Rooms. It was of staid richness, of sober dignity.
Through a vista of marble columns Hugh saw a circular refreshment
counter, and nearby a bulletin board where a group were reading the
latest despatches from the ends of the earth. On leather-padded benches
men were smoking cigarettes, and women gossiping and criticizing all
who passed. Other men and women strolled up and down, taking a breath
of air after a strenuous spell at the tables. He overheard scraps of
conversation.
“Well, I’ve made my day, but the bank gave me a hard fight for it.”
“Yes, a martingale’s deadly. It will always get you in the end.”
Looking towards the left he saw three mysterious doors. From the center
one a stream of people was pouring, with an expression on their faces
of either impassivity or disgust, elation was rare. By the side doors
another crowd was entering. Those to the left were eager and excited;
those to the right calm and blasé. These were the respective doors for
the visitor and the habitué. It was through the visitors’ door that
Hugh passed. At last! He was on the threshold of the greatest gambling
room on earth.
First impression,--nasal. How could people breathe such air? It
struck him like a blow in the face. It was so thick, so richly
human,--a compound of physical exhalations, cheap cosmetics and
disease. It almost daunted him. Second impression,--oral. A confused
murmur of many voices. A discreet rumble, punctuated by the acrid
cries of the croupiers and the click of rakes on counters. Third
impression,--visual. To the right and left were walls of human backs
surrounding pools of light. The light came from green shaded lamps that
hung from heavy cords. Peering over a triple row of shoulders he caught
a glimpse of a green table and a scuttling ball.
He passed through a smaller room into a great central one. In contrast
with the restful dignity of the atrium it was of a brilliant beauty.
Huge columns of honey-coloured onyx seemed to strike the note of the
decoration. Everything was in the same key, from the padded seats of
yellow leather to the Watteau-like panels painted on the wall. Two
immense chandeliers were tangles of gilt on which lights clustered like
grapes on a vine. Everything seemed to shine, glisten, reflect. Even
the inlaid floor was lustrous with the polish of a million gliding
feet. Just as he had called the smaller room by the entrance the “Grey
Room,” so he called this the “Hall of Light.” From the gleaming floor
to the vast dome it suggested light.
There were five tables, and each was besieged by gamblers. Those in
the outer row stretched and strained to get their money on the table,
marking the numbers in glazed note-books, shouting their manner of
staking, squabbling and scrambling for their gains. Hugh felt a little
bewildered.
As he stood there a very curious thing happened. A tall,
distinguished-looking woman, wearing a cream-coloured mantle, advanced
to the centre of the hall. She took from under her mantle a plate of
white china and deliberately let it fall to the floor. At the sharp
crash those nearest turned, and in an instant she was surrounded by
a curious crowd. Then as quietly as she had come she backed out and
disappeared. Two attendants in light blue came forward and calmly
gathered up the debris. The crowd, laughing, returned to the tables.
While Hugh was wondering what it meant, the affable little Mr. Jarvis
Tope bustled up to him. Mr. Tope wore a white waistcoat and white
spats, and was, as the French say, “pinned at the four corners.” His
round red face was wreathed in a smile of welcome.
“Ha! young man, so at last you venture into the cave of the dragon.
Well, it’s good to see a fresh face among so many stale ones. What was
all the excitement about?”
Hugh told him of the lady and the plate. Tope laughed.
“Oh, is that all! Didn’t you know that to break china on the floor of
the Casino is supposed to change one’s luck? It’s rather a desperate
resort. The lady you saw must have been hard hit. Women believe in
those things, mascots and so on. They bet on the number of their
cloakroom check; they have their favourite tables and believe that
the croupier can control the ball. Every woman who believes in any of
these things is a fool; it’s astonishing how many are fools. Come, I’ll
explain the game to you.”
Going to what Mr. Tope called the “Suicide Table,” they pushed
themselves into the triple row of standing spectators till they were
behind the seat holders. These had a sphynx-like air of absorption.
Piles of counters were methodically stacked before them, and their
little note-books were scrupulously neat. Some were marking down dots
and zig-zag lines, some columns of figures. They played occasionally
and with deliberation. They were the regulars, the system workers, who
sat every day in the same place at the same table.
While Mr. Tope was explaining the different methods of playing, Hugh
felt a light touch on his arm. Looking round he saw a sweet if somewhat
over-emphasized face smiling up at him. The girl wore a bonnet that
seemed to be made of tiny lilac flowers, and her hands were daintily
gloved. Hugh thought at first that she had mistaken him for somebody
else.
“Listen, Monsieur. Lend me a louis. It will bring you luck.”
But Mr. Tope frowned. “Don’t do it. Pretend you have no money.”
Hugh awkwardly refused, and with a little grimace the girl went away.
“One of the parasites of the place,” said Mr. Tope. “The Casino’s full
of them. She spotted you at once for a newcomer. She’s on the watch for
greenhorns. Now she’ll tell her sisterhood that you turned her down,
and you’ll be less pestered. Never speak to a woman you don’t know on
the floor of the Casino. In the end it will cost you money.”
“I wonder the management doesn’t stop that sort of thing.”
“They encourage everything that speeds up the gambling. Morality
doesn’t exist as far as they are concerned. All they want is to get
your coin; and in the end they usually do.”
“Do they get yours?”
“Oh, yes, I lose sometimes. There’s a class of people who tell you they
never lose. They’re known as the liars.”
“That was a very pretty girl who spoke to me.”
“Yes. There’s a story about her. She was engaged to a Frenchman who
went to America and established himself in business. He sent her money
to buy her trousseau, and to pay her passage over. She was crazy about
him, all eagerness to join him; but she was tempted to risk a little
of the money at the tables. In the end she lost it all. She dared not
tell him, so she never answered his letters. Since then she has lived
a hectic existence. She’s an incurable gambler. A ruined life.... But
come, I want to introduce you to two of the oldest habitués of the
Rooms, veterans like myself. Mr. Galloway MacTaggart of Strathbungo.”
Hugh was forthwith presented to a tall wiry man, who enveloped his
hand in a large dry grip. He had a grim spectacled face and thin-grey
whiskers.
“Welcome, malad,” said Mr. MacTaggart. “The Fraternal Order o’ the
Veeatic bids ye welcome tae this den o’ ineequity. And noo, if
ye’ll alloo me, I’ll present ye tae the Grand Maister, Mr. Gimp o’
Cincinnati. Mr. Gimp has the disteenction o’ bein’ the auldest member.”
Mr. Gimp was small and wiry. He was the neatest man Hugh had ever seen;
even his eyes were neat. He had a puckered pink face, and white silky
hair like the floss of the thistle. His moustache was like a wisp of
cotton. He extracted the thumb of his right hand from the armhole of
his waistcoat and presented two fingers for Hugh to wag solemnly.
“Gimp’s feeling peevish,” said Mr. Tope. “He’s just won five francs and
lost ten.”
“Never play the goddamn game,” snorted Mr. Gimp. “When you catch me
putting a cent on those tables, you can call me a goddamn fool and kick
me round the ‘Camembert.’”
“Well, after coming here for thirty years without missing a season you
ought to have enough of it.”
“Darned sight too much. No place for a respectable man! Never enter the
Rooms unless I’m obliged to. Just come in now to look for a friend.
A hotbed of crooks and courtesans. Yes, and spies. Look at that damn
inspector edging nearer to see if he can’t hear what we are talking
about. Bah! Look at that woman now. Why, she’d make a rotten egg smell
like a rose. Well, I can’t stand it any longer. I’m off to breathe
God’s good air. Au revoir.”
With that Mr. Gimp stalked virtuously away. “He’s always like that,”
remarked Mr. MacTaggart dryly. “An’ if ye come in the Casino an ’oor
from noo ye’ll find him smokin’ his cigarette in the atrium. He’s one
o’ the fixtures o’ the place. It wouldna’ be complete withoot him. An’
there’s a whole lot mair in the same boax. A man frae Brazeel went aff
his heid in the Rooms the ither day. ‘Puir Chap!’ they were a-sayin’,
but I telt them, ‘He’s nae worse nor the rest o’ us. We’re a’ daft in
this establishment.’ Whit’s yer impression o’ it, young man?”
“I’m surprised to see so many old people in the Rooms.”
“That’s right. Gamblin’s the last infirmity of ignoble minds. When
folks are ower dodderin’ for wine an’ wimmen, gamblin’s a’ that’s left
tae them. Look at that auld Bianca there. They say she wis the mistress
o’ the King o’ Italy. Whit things she must hae seen! Noo she goes roon
like a spectre mumblin’ an’ breakin’ wind every time she plays. Weel,
I’m feelin’ auld an’ tired masel. Ma nerves are no whit they were.
There’s nae doot it gets ye. It’s a crool, crool game....”
They sought the fresher air of the atrium and lighting their cigarettes
sat down on a recessed divan of padded leather.
“MacTaggart is our great hope,” said Mr. Tope. “He is patience and
pertinacity personified. He has now been sitting at the same place at
the same table from the beginning of the play to the end for two years.”
“For three years,” said Mr. MacTaggart. “I’ve got the record o’ two
hundred thoosand consecutive _coups_.”
“MacTaggart claims he knows more about roulette than all the rest of us
put together.”
“So I do. Ye’re like a lot o’ children. Ye ken naethin’. When ye’ve
spent night after night for three years compilin’ an’ analyzin’
permanencies, ye’ll begin tae hae some glimmerin’ o’ the mysterious
workin’s o’ the laws o’ chance. I’ve studied the game noo for twenty
years and I’m jist beginnin’ tae know a little, a verry little.”
“Look!” said Mr. Tope, “there’s that poor little Emslie girl waiting as
usual for her mother.”
On one of the benches near the exit from the Rooms Hugh saw a slight
girl with a very sweet face. Her chestnut hair was braided behind and
her colouring was fresh, and girlish. She sat with her slim hands
clasped in her lap, looking anxious and forlorn.
“That,” said Mr. Tope, who seemed to know everything and everybody,
“is one of the hardest cases. She’s only sixteen, and has been left a
few thousand pounds by her grandfather. But her mother’s a gambler
_enragée_. She’s lost all her own money, and now they say she’s playing
with the girl’s.”
At that moment a woman came from the Rooms, and the girl ran to her
eagerly. The woman was tall and handsome, and her face was alight with
joy. Opening her gold chain bag, she showed the girl the contents. They
both laughed, almost hysterically, and went off arm in arm. With a
start Hugh recognized the cream-coloured cape; it was the lady who had
broken the plate.
2.
In the days that followed Hugh came to know the great building
intimately. He gave fanciful names to the various Rooms. Beyond the
“Hall of Light,” as he called the main gambling room, was the “Hall
of Gloom.” In decoration it was heavy, dark, depressing. There was
something Teutonic about it, even to the panels of lumpish Amazons that
filled in the wall spaces. On the only occasion he played there, he
came away whistling the “Dead March.”
To the right of the “Hall of Light” was a little gem of a room
which contained only one table. He called it the “Room of the Opium
Dreamer,” on account of the exquisitely painted ceiling of naked nymphs
voluptuously sprawling on fleecy clouds. Its windows looked on the
terrace and often he pulled aside the silken blind to marvel at the
radiant beauty of the sea. The air in this room was unusually bad.
Beyond this was what he called the “Hall of the Three Graces,” on
account of the huge wall panel that dominated it. It represented three
nude women against a Florentine background. Mr. Tope gave him some
curious information about this picture.
“These,” he said, “were three _demi-mondaines_, frequenters of the
Casino. They claimed to be Swiss: but it turned out that they were
Austrian spies in the pay of Germany.”
Hugh looked at them with a new interest.
“When war was declared all three cleared out in a hurry. The directer
himself had to get away. He had, they say, gotten the Casino Company to
acquire the golf links on Mont Agel, and right under the eyes of the
French garrison he had all prepared for the installation of a wireless
outfit. It was an ex-captain of Uhlans. His son made a demonstration in
favour of Germany in front of the Casino and was mobbed.... Oh, this
was a great place before the war, a hotbed of treason. I’m told the
French Government had to put pressure on the Government of Monaco to
clear them out. And now they’re creeping back again.”
3.
Hugh soon came to recognize the various types that frequented the
place. The women known as the skimmers particularly interested him.
They haunted the Rooms, hovering over the tables and waiting for a
chance to grab the stakes of others. They were the cause of most of the
disputes. In the course of an afternoon a dozen of these rows would
occur. As a rule, the croupiers discreetly professed ignorance of the
cause. Although the disputants often called one another nasty names,
Hugh saw them come to blows only on one occasion.
A Russian woman, said to be a princess ruined by the Bolshevics, was
playing steadily. Twice a Frenchwoman with a face like a bulldog,
reached out and grabbed her winning stake. The Russian looked puzzled,
but said nothing; she only watched and waited. As the Frenchwoman
reached forward a third time she cried “Thief!”
The Frenchwoman promptly slapped her face. The Russian looked at her in
steady contempt, shrugged her shoulders and turned to go. Then a fury
seized her, and swinging round, she struck the Frenchwoman a violent
blow, clutched at her hat, her hair, tugged, scratched, slapped, a
very wild cat of fury. The attendants separated them. The Russian was
marched off; the Frenchwoman dried her tears and declared triumphantly
that the other would lose her ticket. But presently when the attendants
returned, she, too, was led off. Hugh never saw either of them in the
Casino again.
He spent long hours studying the play. He took down numbers and poured
over the permanencies. He felt quite at home now. He had a monthly
card, and was confident, even eager to begin. One evening he left the
Rooms with his mind made up.
“To-morrow I cease to be a spectator. To-morrow I commence to play.”
CHAPTER TWO
A GAMBLER’S DÉBUT
1.
“Margot, would you mind coming here a moment?”
The girl was drying her hands after washing the supper dishes. “Yes,
monsieur.”
“Oh, I say, I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘monsieur.’ It sounds as if I
were treating you like a servant.”
The girl was silent. Hugh went on.
“Why can’t you call me by my first name, as I do you? If you don’t, I
shall think you dislike me.”
“Oh, please don’t think that. I would do anything to please you.”
“Then why be so unfriendly?”
“I don’t mean to. But ... it’s hard.”
“Why?”
“Well ... there’s such a difference between us. I am only a poor girl,
a nobody. You are....”