THE HELL.
After having taken a few turns in Regent-street, the baronet observed
"that it was devilish slow work;" Mr. Talbot suggested the propriety of
"a spree;" and Mr. Chichester declared "that as his friend Markham was
anxious to see _life_, the best thing they could all do was to drop in
for an hour at No. ----, Quadrant."
"What place is that?" demanded Markham.
"Oh; only an establishment for cards and dice, and other innocent
diversions," carelessly answered Chichester.
The Quadrant of an evening is crowded with loungers of both sexes.
Beneath those arcades walk the daughters of crime, by ones and
twos--dressed in the flaunting garb that tells so forcibly the tale of
broken hearts, and blighted promise, and crushed affections,--to lose an
hour amidst the haunts of pleasure and of vice, and to court the crime
by which alone they live. The young men that saunter arm-in-arm up and
down, and the hoary old sinners, whose licentious glances seem to plunge
down into the depths of the boddices of those frail but beauteous girls,
little think of the amount of mental suffering which is contained
beneath those gay satins and rustling silks. They mark the heaving of
the voluptuous bosom, but dream not of the worm that gnaws eternally
within:--they behold smiles upon the red lips, and are far from
suspecting that the hearts of those who laugh so joyfully are all but
broken!
Thus is it that in the evening the Quadrant has a characteristic set of
loungers of its own:--or, at least, it is frequented after dusk by a
population whose characters are easily to be defined.
A bright lamp burnt in the fan-light over the door of No. ----. Mr.
Chichester gave a loud and commanding knock; and a policeman standing
by, who doubtless had several golden reasons for not noticing anything
connected with that establishment, instantly ran across the road after a
small boy whom he suspected to be a thief, because the poor wretch wore
an uncommonly shabby hat. The summons given by Mr. Chichester was not
immediately answered. Five minutes elapsed ere any attention was paid to
it; and then the door was only opened to the small extent allowed by a
chain inside. A somewhat repulsive looking countenance was at the same
time protruded from behind the door.
"Well?" said the man to whom the countenance belonged.
"All right," returned Chichester.
The chain was withdrawn, and the door was opened to its full extent. The
party was thereupon admitted, with some manifestations of impatience on
the part of the porter, who no doubt thought that the door was kept open
too long, into a passage at the end of which was a staircase covered
with a handsome carpet.
Chichester led the way, and his companions followed, up to a suite of
rooms on the first floor. These were well furnished, and brilliantly
lighted; and red moreen curtains, with heavy and rich fringes, were
carefully drawn over the windows. Splendid mirrors stood above the
mantels, which were also adorned with French timepieces in _or molu_, and
candelabra of the same material. On one side of the front room stood a
bouffet covered with wines and liquors of various descriptions.
In the middle of that same front apartment was the _rouge et noir_
table. On each side sate a _Croupier_, with a long rake in his hand, and
a green shade over his eyes. Before one of them was placed a tin case:
this was the _Bank_;--and on each side of that cynosure of all
attention, stood little piles of markers, or counters.
Two or three men--well but flashily dressed, and exhibiting a monstrous
profusion of Birmingham jewellery about their persons--sate at the
table. These were the _Bonnets_--individuals in reality in the pay of
the proprietor of the establishment, and whose duties consist in
enticing strangers and visitors to play, or in maintaining an appearance
of playing deeply when such strangers and visitors first enter the room.
The countenances of the croupiers were cold, passionless, and totally
devoid of any animation. They called the game, raked up the winnings, or
paid the losings, without changing a muscle of their features. For all
that regarded animation or excitement, they might have been easily
passed off as automatons.
[Illustration]
Not so was it with the Bonnets. These gentlemen were compelled to affect
exuberant joy when they won, and profound grief or rage when they lost.
From time to time they paid a visit to the sideboard, and helped
themselves to wine or spirits, or regaled themselves with cigars. These
refreshments were supplied gratuitously to all comers by the proprietor:
this apparent liberality was upon the principle of throwing out a sprat
to catch a whale.
When none save the Croupiers and Bonnets are present, they throw aside
their assumed characters, and laugh, and joke, and chatter, and smoke,
and drink; but the moment steps are heard upon the staircase, they all
relapse with mechanical exactitude into their business aspect. The
Croupiers put on their imperturbable countenances as easily as if they
were masks; and the Bonnets appear to be as intent upon the game, as if
its results were to them perspective life or death.
The Croupiers are usually trustworthy persons well known to the
proprietor, or else shareholders themselves in the establishment. The
Bonnets are young men of education and manners, who have probably lost
the ample fortunes wherewith they commenced life, in the very whirlpool
to which, for a weekly stipend, they are employed to entice others.
In one of the inner rooms there was a roulette-table; but this was
seldom used. A young lad held the almost sinecure office of attending
upon it.
The front room was tolerably crowded on the evening when Chichester,
Markham, the baronet, and Talbot, honoured the establishment with a
visit.
The moment they entered the apartment, Richard instinctively drew back,
and, catching hold of Chichester's arm, whispered to him in a hurried
and anxious manner, "Tell me, is this a Gambling-House? is it what I
have heard called a Hell?"
"It is a Gambling-House, if you will, my dear fellow," was the reply;
"but a most respectable one. Besides--you must see life, you know!"
With these words he took Markham's arm, and conducted him up to the
_rouge et noir_ table.
A young officer, whose age could not have exceeded twenty, was seated
at the further end of the green-baize covered board. A huge pile of
notes and gold lay before him; but at rapid intervals one of the
Croupiers raked away the stakes which he deposited; and thus his heap of
money was gradually growing smaller.
"Well, this is extraordinary!" ejaculated the young officer; "I never
saw the luck set so completely in against me. However--I can afford to
lose a little; for I broke your bank for you last night, my boys?"
"What does that mean?" demanded Richard in a whisper.
"He won all the money which the proprietor deposited in that tin case,
he means," replied Chichester.
"And how much do you suppose that might be?"
"About fifteen hundred to two thousand pounds."
"Here--waiter!" exclaimed the young officer, who had just lost another
stake,--"a glass of claret."
The waiter handed him a glass of the wine so demanded. The young officer
did not notice him for a moment, but waited to see the result of the
next chance.
He lost again.
He turned round to seize the glass of wine; but when his eyes caught
sight of it, his countenance became almost livid with rage.
"Fool! idiot!" he ejaculated, starting from his seat: "bring me a
tumbler--a large tumbler full of claret; my mouth is as parched as h--l,
and my stomach is like a lime-kiln."
The waiter hastened to comply with the wishes of the young gambler. The
tumbler of claret was supplied; and the game continued.
Still the officer lost.
"A cigar!" he shouted, in a fearful state of excitement--"bring me a
cigar!"
The waiter handed him a box of choice Havannahs, that he might make his
selection.
"Why the devil don't you bring a light at the same time, you d--d
infernal rascal?" cried the gamester; and while the domestic hastened to
supply this demand also, he poured a volley of most horrible oaths at
the bewildered wretch's head.
Again the play proceeded.
And again the young officer lost.
His pile of gold was gone: the Croupier who kept the bank changed one of
his remaining notes.
"That makes three thousand that I have lost already, by G--d!"
ejaculated the young officer.
"Including the amount you won last night, I believe," said one of the
Bonnets.
"Well, sir, and suppose it is--what the deuce is that to you?" demanded
the officer fiercely. "Have I not been here night after night for these
six weeks? and have I not lost thousands--thousands? When did I ever get
a vein of good luck until last night? But never mind--I'll play on--I'll
play till the end: I will either win all back, or lose everything
together. And then--in the latter case--"
He stopped: he had just lost again. His countenance grew ghastly pale,
and he bit his lips convulsively.
"Claret--more claret!" he exclaimed, throwing away the Havannah: "that
cigar only makes me the more thirsty."
And again the play proceeded.
"I am really afraid to contemplate that young man's countenance,"
whispered Markham to Chichester.
"Why so?"
"I have an idea that if he should prove unsuccessful he will commit
suicide. I have a great mind just to mention my fears to these men in
the green shades, who seem to be winning all his money."
"Pray be quiet. They will only laugh at you."
"But the life of a fellow-creature?"
"What do they care?"
"Do you mean to say they are such wretches--"
"I mean that they do not care one fig what may happen so long as they
get the money."
Markham was struck speechless with horror as he heard this cold-blooded
announcement. Chichester had however stated nothing but the truth.
The proceedings were now fearfully interesting. The young officer was
worked up to a most horrible state of excitement: his losses continued
to be unvaried by a single gleam of good fortune. Still he persisted in
his ruinous career: note after note was changed. At length his last was
melted into gold. He now became absolutely desperate: his countenance
was appalling;--the frenzy of gambling and the inflammatory effects of
the liquors he had been drinking, rendered his really handsome features
positively hideous.
Markham had never beheld such a scene before, and felt afraid. His
companions surveyed it with remarkable coolness.
The play proceeded; and in a few moments the officer's last stake was
swept away.
Then the croupiers paused, as it were, by common consent; and all eyes
were directed towards the object of universal interest.
"Well--I said I would play until I won all or lost all," he said; "and I
have done so. Waiter, give me another tumbler of claret: it will compose
me."
He laughed bitterly as he uttered these words.
The claret was brought: he drained the tumbler, and threw it upon the
table, where it broke into a dozen pieces.
"Clear this away, Thomas," said one of the Croupiers, completely
unmoved.
"Yes, sir;" and the fragments of the tumbler disappeared forthwith.
The Bonnets, perceiving the presence of other strangers, were now
compelled to withdraw their attention from the ruined gambler, and
commence playing.
And so the play again proceeded.
"Where is my hat, waiter?" demanded the young officer, after a pause,
during which he had gazed vacantly upon the game.
"In the passage, sir--I believe."
"No--I remember, it is in the inner room. But do not trouble yourself--I
will fetch it myself."
"Very good, sir;" and the waiter did not move.
The young officer sauntered, in a seeming leisurely manner, into the
innermost room of the suite.
"What a shocking scene!" whispered Markham to Chichester. "I am glad I
came hither this once: it will be a lesson for me which I can never
forget."
At this instant the report of a pistol echoed sharply through the rooms.
There was a simultaneous rush to the inner apartment:--Markham's
presentiments were fulfilled--the young officer had committed suicide.
His brains were literally blown out, and he lay upon the carpet
weltering in his blood.
A cry of horror burst from the strangers present; and then, with one
accord, they hastened to the door. The baronet, Chichester, and Talbot,
were amongst the foremost who made this movement, and were thereby
enabled to effect their escape.
Markham stood rivetted to the spot, unaware that his companions had left
him, and contemplating with feelings of supreme horror the appalling
spectacle before him.
Suddenly the cry of "The police" fell upon his ears; and heavy steps
were heard hurrying up the staircase.
"The Bank!" ejaculated one of the Croupiers.
"All right!" cried the other; and in a moment the lights were
extinguished, as by magic, throughout the entire suite of rooms.
Obeying a natural impulse, Markham hastened towards the door; but his
progress was stopped by a powerful hand, and in an instant the
bull's-eye of a lantern glared upon his countenance.
He was in the grasp of a police officer.