NUMBER FIFTEEN.
When Yootha awoke next morning, her head was aching badly. She had only
a confused recollection of the events of the previous night, and the
more she tried to remember exactly what had happened, the greater the
tangle became.
Her blinds were down and the room was still almost in darkness, as she
had not yet been called. For about an hour she remained in a sort of
disturbed half-sleep; then gradually she began to wonder what the time
could be. Through the open windows the sound of traffic came to her,
which made her think it must be late. She turned to look at her watch.
It had stopped at four in the morning.
She felt under her pillow for the electric bell push, and some minutes
later one of the hotel maids entered.
“What time is it?” Yootha asked.
“Close on one o’clock, miss.”
“One o’clock! But why was I not called? Why was my cup of tea not
brought?”
“I will inquire, miss,” and the maid left the room, closing the door
behind her.
Soon she returned. She said that before Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson had
left she had said that Miss Hagerston was very tired and must not be
disturbed. “How do you mean, before she left?” Yootha inquired. “Where
has she gone?”
“I have no idea, miss. She left the hotel this morning with her maid,
and the two gentlemen who were with her have gone too.”
“You mean gone away? Gone, with their luggage?”
“Yes, miss.”
Yootha started up in bed.
“But this is extraordinary!” she exclaimed. “They never said a word
yesterday about leaving. Has no message been left for me?”
“No, miss. I made that inquiry.”
A whole flood of thoughts, doubts, suspicions, surged through the
girl’s brain. Oh, if only she could remember exactly what had happened
on the previous night! But the harder she tried to concentrate her
thoughts, the more impossible she found it to remember anything. She
could recollect playing and winning in the Casino during the afternoon
and evening; after that her mind was a blank. She could not recollect
even where she had had supper, or with whom, or if she had had supper
at all!
Then, all at once, her heart seemed to stop beating. Ever since the
night she and Jessica and her friends had together broken the bank at
Dieppe, Jessica had been acting as her banker. That is to say she had
suggested that in order to save Yootha trouble--so she put it--she
would advance her money to play with, as much as she might want, and,
in return, take charge of the girl’s winnings. Every morning she had
come to Yootha and told her the exact sum she held belonging to her,
and out of it she had handed Yootha whatever sum she asked for. But
there had been no record or acknowledgment, or aught else in writing.
Yootha had placed implicit confidence in her friend and now----
She saw it all, and her mouth went suddenly dry. Jessica had left her,
taking with her the whole of the very considerable sum she, Yootha,
had won during the past weeks. Had she not been so lucky, Jessica and
her friends would no doubt have left her long before. Now, probably,
they had come to the conclusion enough money had been won by her to
make it worth their while to decamp with it. And what could she do? If
she tried to claim it Jessica would, of course, say she knew nothing
whatever about it, and perhaps declare her to be suffering from a
delusion.
Breakfast was brought to her room, but she could not touch it. Then
suddenly a feeling of terrible loneliness came over her. She realized
she was alone in Monte Carlo, where she knew nobody but people to whom
Jessica had introduced her, and whom she had no wish to meet again.
True, she had money enough to pay her fare home, but had she enough to
pay the bill at this very expensive hotel where she had been staying
already a fortnight? To offer the manager a cheque might, she felt,
lead to unpleasantness should he refuse to accept it.
She dressed as quickly as she could, and went out into the town.
The sun was shining brightly, and the band playing, and crowds of
well-dressed men and women seemed to be everywhere. She was conscious,
as she wandered aimlessly through the beautiful gardens of the Casino,
of attracting attention and admiration.
Presently her gaze rested on the entrance to the Casino. A stream of
people was passing in and out. The band was playing a jazz which she
loved, and the music stirred her pulse. For the moment the thought of
her distress rested less heavily on her mind. And then, all at once,
the gambling fever, which had temporarily subsided, began to reassert
itself. Play would be in full swing now, she reflected. She pictured
the crowd grouped around the roulette. She heard the croupier’s bored
voice droning “_Faites vos jeux_,” and “_Rien n’va plus_,” and the
rattle of the little ball as it spun merrily round in the revolving
well. Then she saw the numbers slowing down, saw them stop, and heard
the croupier calling: “_Le numéro quinze!_”
She opened her vanity bag, pulled out the money it contained, and
proceeded to count it carefully. It was all the ready money she
possessed. Certainly it did not amount to enough to settle her hotel
bill for the past fortnight, and the bill was bound to be presented
soon. She had come to look upon winning at the tables as a matter of
daily routine. Also, she yearned to play again. The Casino with its
heated atmosphere, its scented women, its piles of notes and its chink
of gold, seemed to be calling to her, beckoning her to come and fill
her depleted coffers at its generous fount of wealth, especially now
that she needed money. For a brief moment she thought of Preston, and
of their last meeting, and of his earnest warning. Then, dispelling the
disagreeable reflection, she stuffed her money back into her bag, shut
it with a snap, rose, and walked quickly in the direction of the famous
Temple of Mammon.
She had little difficulty in securing a seat. For a minute or two she
watched the play. Then she backed the number she had thought of while
in the gardens--_le numero quinze_.
It came up.
She backed it again, and once more swept in her winnings. Then she
started playing _en plein_, recklessly and with big stakes, as she had
been in the habit of doing. But her luck had suddenly changed. Again
and again she lost. She doubled, and trebled, and quadrupled her stakes.
But still she lost.
In less than half an hour she had only a single louis left, and, rising
abruptly, she walked out of the _salon_ like a woman in a dream.
A louis! Of what use was that? She went back to her hotel, and locked
herself in her room. Her brain felt on fire. She thought she was going
mad. She wanted to cry, but could not.
For an hour she lay on her bed, suffering mental agony. Then with an
effort she got up, and sent off a telegram.