IS A MYSTERY
I was left alone with Reggie, for Ulrica had taken Gerald into the
orchestral concert.
"What awfully good luck you had!" he observed, after we had been
chatting some time. "If you'd had the maximum on each time, you'd
have won over seven hundred pounds."
"There are a good many 'ifs' in gambling," I remarked. "I've never
had any luck before in gambles at bazaars and such-like places."
"When you do have luck, follow it, is my motto," he laughed. "I
should have advised you to continue playing to-day, only I thought it
might annoy Ulrica," and he raised his whisky and seltzer to his lips.
"But I might have lost all I won," I remarked. "No, I prefer to keep
it. I'd like to be unique among other people and go away with some
of the bank's money, I intend to keep what I have, and not to play
again."
"Never?"
"Never!"
"My dear Miss Rosselli, that's what everyone says here," he laughed.
"But before you've been on the Riviera long you'll soon discover that
this is no place for good resolutions. Gambling is one of the
sweetest and most insidious of vices, and has the additional
attraction of being thought _chic_. Look at the crowd of women here!
Why, every one of them plays. If she didn't, others would believe
her to be hard-up--and poverty, you know, is distinctly bad form
here. Even if a woman hasn't sufficient to pay her hotel bill, she
must wear the regulation gold chatelaine and the gold chain-purse, if
it only contains a couple of pieces of a hundred sous. And she must
play. Fortunes have been won with only five francs."
"Such stories, I fear, are only fairy tales," I said incredulously.
"No. At least, one of them is not," he answered, blowing a cloud of
smoke from his lips and looking at me amusedly. "I was playing here
one night last March when a young French girl won three hundred
thousand francs after having first lost all she had. She borrowed a
five-franc piece from a friend, and with it broke the bank. I was
present at the table where it occurred. Fortune is very fickle here."
"So it seems," I said. "That is why I intend to keep what I've won."
"You might have a necklace made of the louis," he said. "Many women
wear coins won at Monte attached to their bangles, along with golden
pigs and enamelled discs bearing the fatal number thirteen."
"A happy thought!" I exclaimed. "I'll have one put on my bangle
to-morrow as a souvenir."
"Are you staying on the Riviera long?" he inquired presently.
"I really don't know. When Ulrica is tired of it we shall move down
to Rome, I suppose."
"When she's lost sufficient, you mean," he smiled. "She's quite
reckless when she commences. I remember her here several seasons
ago. She lost very heavily. Luck was entirely against her."
I, too, remember her visit. She left me in London and went to the
Riviera for a couple of months, and on her return was constantly
bewailing her penury. This, then, was the secret of it. She had
never revealed to me the truth.
"And you think that I shall be stricken with the prevalent epidemic?"
I inquired.
"I hope not," he answered quickly. "But, after all, the temptation
is utterly irresistible. It is sad, indeed, that here, in this
corner of God's earth, which He has marked as the nearest approach to
Paradise created, should be allowed to flaunt all the vices which
render the world horrible. Monte Carlo is the one blot upon the
Riviera. I'm a gambler--I make no secret of it, because I find
resistance impossible while I have money in my pocket--nevertheless,
much as I like a fling here each winter, I would gladly welcome the
closing of the Casino. It has been well said that those red-carpeted
steps and the wide doors opposite form the entrance-gate to hell."
I sighed, glancing over to the flight of steps opposite, where all
sorts of women, wintering among temptations in summer toilettes, were
passing up and down. He was possessed of common sense, and spoke the
truth. Inside those Rooms the perspiring and perfumed crowds were
fluttering round the tables as moths round a candle, going headlong
to ruin, both moral and financial.
"Yes," I observed reflectively, "I suppose you're right. Thousands
have been ruined within that place."
"And thousands have ended by committing suicide," he added. "The
average number of suicides within this tiny Principality of Monaco is
more than two a day!"
"More than two a day!" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes. Of course, the authorities bribe the Press to hush it all up,
but the authentic figures were published not long ago. The
Administrator of the Casino finds it cheaper to bury a corpse than to
pay a ruined gambler's fare to St. Petersburg, London, or New York.
That's why the poor devils who are cleaned out find the
much-talked-of _viatique_ so difficult to obtain. Human life is held
very cheap here, I can tell you."
"Oh, don't talk like that!" I protested. "You make one feel quite
nervous. Do you mean that murder is often committed?"
"Well--not exactly that. But one must always remember that here,
mixing with the best people of Europe, are the very scum of the
world, both male and female. Although they dress elegantly, live
well, play boldly, and give themselves airs and false titles of
nobility, and wear decorations to which they are not entitled, they
are a very queer and unscrupulous crowd, I can assure you."
"Do you know any of them by sight?" I inquired, much interested.
"Oh, one or two," he answered, laughing. "Some of them are, of
course, eccentric and quite harmless characters." Then a moment
later he added: "Do you see that tall, thin old man just ascending
the steps--the one with the soft white felt hat? Well, his is a
curious story. Twenty years ago he came here as a millionaire, and
within a month lost everything he possessed at _trente et quarante_.
So huge were the profits made by the bank that, instead of giving him
his _viatique_ to London, they allotted him a pension of a louis a
day for life, on the understanding that he should never again enter
the Rooms. For nearly twenty years he lived in Nice, haunting the
Promenade des Anglais, and brooding over his past foolishness. Last
year, however, somebody died unexpectedly, and left him quite
comfortably off, whereupon he paid back to Monte Carlo all that he
had received and returned again to gamble. His luck, however, has
proved just as bad as before. Yet each month, as soon as he draws
his income, he comes over, and in a single day flings it all away
upon the red, his favourite colour. His history is only one of many."
With interest I looked at the tall, thin-faced old gambler as he
painfully ascended the steps; and even as I watched he passed in,
eager to fling away all that stood between himself and starvation.
Truly, the world of Monte Carlo is a very queer place.
Ulrica and Gerald came laughing across the leafy Place and joined us
at our table. It was very pleasant there, with the band playing the
latest waltzes, the gay promenaders strolling beneath the palms, the
bright flowers and the pigeons strutting in the roadway. Indeed, as
one sat there it seemed hard to believe that this was actually the
much-talked-of Monte Carlo--the plague-spot of Europe.
I don't think that I ever saw Ulrica look so well as on that
afternoon in the white serge which she had had made in Paris; for
white serge is, as you know, always _de rigueur_ at Monte in winter,
with white hat and white shoes. I was also in white, but it never
suited me as it did her, yet one had to be smart, even at the expense
of one's complexion. At Monte Carlo one must at least be
respectable, even in one's vices.
"Come, let's go back to the Rooms," suggested Ulrica, when she had
finished her tea, flavoured with orange-flower water in accordance
with the mode at the Café de Paris.
"Miss Rosselli won't play any more," said Reggie.
"My dear Carmela!" cried Ulrica. "Why, surely, you've the pluck to
follow your good fortune!"
But I was obdurate, and although I accompanied the others I did not
risk a single sou.
The place was crowded, and the atmosphere absolutely unbearable, as
it always becomes about five o'clock. The Administration appear
afraid of letting in a little air to cool the heads of the players,
hence the Rooms are, as it were, hermetically sealed.
As I wandered about with Reggie, he pointed out to me other
well-known characters in the Rooms--the queer old fellow who carries
a bag-purse made of coloured beads; the old hag with a moustache who
always brings her own rake; the bright-eyed, dashing woman known to
the croupiers as "The Golden Hand"; the thin, wizen-faced little
hunch-back, who one night a few months before had broken the bank at
the first roulette table on the left; men working so-called
"systems," and women trying to snatch up other people's winnings.
Now and then my companion placed a louis upon a _transversale_ or
_colonne_, and once or twice he won; but declaring that he had no
luck that day, he soon grew as tired of it as myself.
Ulrica came up to us flushed with excitement. She had won three
hundred francs at the table where she always played. Her favourite
croupier was turning the wheel, and he always brought her luck. We
had both won, and she declared it to be a happy augury for the future.
While we were standing there the croupier's voice sounded loud and
clear "Zero!" with that long roll of the "r" which _habitués_ of the
Rooms know so well.
"Zero!" cried Reggie. "By Jove! I must put something on," and
hurrying toward the table he handed the croupier a hundred-franc
note, with a request to put it on the number 29.
The game was made and the ball fell.
"_Vingt-neuf! Rouge, impair et passe!_"
"By Jove!" cried Gerald. "He's won! Lucky devil! How extraordinary
that after zero the number 29 so frequently follows!"
The croupier handed Reggie three thousand-franc notes and quite a
handful of gold. Then the lucky player moved his original stake on
to the little square marked 36.
Again he won, and again and again. The three thousand-franc notes he
had just received he placed upon the middle dozen. The number 18
turned up, and the croupier handed him six thousand francs--the
maximum paid by the bank on a single _coup_. Every eye around that
table watched him narrowly. People began to follow his play, placing
their money beside his, and time after time he won, making only a few
unimportant losses.
We stood watching him in silent wonder. The luck of the man with
whom I had been flirting was simply marvellous. Sometimes he
distributed his stakes on the colour, the dozens and the "pair," and
thus often won in several places at the same time. The eager,
grabbing crowd surged round the table and the excitement quickly rose
to fever heat. The assault Reggie was making upon the bank was
certainly a formidable one. His inner pockets bulged with the mass
of notes he had crammed there, and the outer pockets of his jacket
were heavy with golden louis.
Ulrica stood behind him, but uttered no word. To speak to a person
while playing is believed by the gambler at Monte Carlo to bring evil
fortune.
When he could cram no more notes into his pockets, he passed them to
Ulrica, who held them in an overflow bundle in her hand.
He tossed a thousand francs on the red, but lost, together with the
dozens of others who had followed his play.
He played again, with no better result.
A third time he played on the red, which had not been up for nine
times in succession, a most unusual run.
Black won.
"I've finished," he said, turning to us with a laugh. "Let's get out
of this--my luck has changed."
"Marvellous!" cried Ulrica. "Why, you must have won quite a fortune!"
"We'll go across to the Café and count it," he said, and we all
walked out together; and while sitting at one of the tables we helped
him to count the piles of gold and notes.
He had, we found, won over sixty thousand francs.
At his invitation we went along to Gast's, the jeweller's, in the
Galerie, and he there purchased for each of us a ring as a little
souvenir of the day. Then we entered Giro's and dined.
Yes, life at Monte Carlo is absolutely intoxicating. Now, however,
that I sit here calmly reflecting on the events of that day when I
first entered the Sign of the Seven Sins, I find that even though the
display of such wealth as one sees upon the tables is dazzling, yet
my first impression of it has never been altered.
I hated Monte Carlo from the first. I hate it now.
The talk at dinner was, of course, the argot of the Rooms. At Monte
Carlo the conversation is always of play. If you meet an
acquaintance, you do not ask after her health, but of her luck and
her latest successes.
The two bejewelled worlds, the _monde_ and the _demi-monde_, ate,
drank, and chattered in that restaurant of wide renown. The company
was cosmopolitan, the conversation polyglot, the dishes marvellous.
At the table next us there sat the Grand-Duke Michael of Russia, with
the Countess Torby, and beyond a British earl with a couple of smart
military men. The United States Ambassador to Germany was at another
table with a small party of friends; while La Juniori, Derval, and
several other well-known Parisian beauties were scattered here and
there.
I was laughing at a joke of Reggie's, when suddenly I raised my eyes
and saw a pair of new-comers. The man was tall, dark, handsome, with
face a trifle bronzed--a face I knew only too well!
I started, and must have turned pale, for I knew from Ulrica's
expression that she noticed it.
The man who entered there, as though to taunt me with his presence,
was Ernest Cameron, the man whom I had loved--nay, whom I still
loved--the man who had a year ago cast me aside for another and left
me to wear out my young heart in sorrow and suffering.
That woman was with him--the tow-haired woman whom they told me he
had promised to make his wife. I had never seen her before. She was
rather _petite_, with a fair, fluffy coiffure, blue-grey eyes and
pink-and-white cheeks. She had earned, I afterwards discovered, a
rather unenviable notoriety in Paris on account of some scandal or
other, but the real truth about it I could never ascertain.
Our eyes met as she entered, but she was unaware that she gazed upon
the woman who was her rival, and who hated her. She had stolen
Ernest from me, and I felt that I could rise there, in that public
place, and crush the life from that fragile body.
Ernest himself brushed past my chair, but without recognising me, and
went down the room gaily with his companion.
"Do you notice who has just entered?" asked Ulrica.
I nodded. I could not speak.
"Who?" inquired Reggie quickly.
"Some friends of ours," she answered carelessly.
"Oh! everyone meets friends here," he remarked, as he raised his
champagne unsuspectingly to his lips.
Reader, if you are a woman, you will fully understand how the sight
of that man who held me by a fatal fascination, caused in my breast a
whirl of passions. I hated and loved at the same instant. Even
though we were parted, I had never ceased to think of him. For me
the world had no longer any charm, since the light of my life had now
gone out, and I was suffering in silence, just as so many women who
have become the sport of Fate are bound to do.
Yes. Ulrica's notion was, after all, very true. No man whom I had
ever met was really worth consideration. All were egoists. The rich
believed that woman was a mere toy, while the poor were always
ineligible.
Reggie spoke to me, but I scarcely heeded him. Now that the man I
loved was near me, I felt an increasing desire to get rid of this
male encumbrance. True, he was rich, and I knew, by my own feminine
intuition, that he admired me, but for him I entertained no spark of
affection. Alas! that we always sigh for the unattainable.
For myself, the remainder of the meal was utterly without interest.
I longed to get another glimpse of that man's bronzed face, and of
the tow-haired woman whom he had preferred to me, but they were
evidently sitting at a table in the corner out of sight.
Ulrica knew the truth, and took compassion upon me by hastening the
dinner to its end. Then we went forth again into the cool, balmy
night. The moon shone brightly, and its reflection glittered in a
long stream of silver brilliance upon the sea; the Place was gaily
lit and the white façade of the Casino, with its great illuminated
clock, shone with lights of every hue.
Across to the Hermitage we strolled, and there drank our coffee.
I laughed at Reggie's pockets bulging with notes, for, the banks
being closed, he was compelled to carry his winnings about with him.
While we sat there, however, a brilliant idea occurred to him.
"Nearly all these notes are small," he said suddenly. "I'll go into
the Rooms and exchange the gold and small notes for large ones.
They'll be so much easier to carry."
"Ah!" cried Ulrica, "I never thought of that. Why, of course!"
"Very well," he answered, rising. "I shan't be ten minutes."
"Don't be tempted to play again, old fellow," urged Gerald.
"No fear of that!" he laughed, and, with a cigarette in his mouth,
strode away in the direction of the Casino.
We remained there gossiping for fully half an hour, yet he did not
return. As it was only a walk of a couple of minutes from the
Hermitage to the Casino, we concluded that he had met some friend and
been detained, for, like Gerald, he came there each winter and knew
quite a host of people. One makes a large circle of acquaintances on
the Riviera, many interesting, but the majority undesirable.
"I wonder where he's got to?" Gerald observed presently. "Surely he
isn't such an idiot as to resume play!"
"No. He's well enough aware that there's no luck after dinner,"
remarked Ulrica. "We might, however, I think, take a last turn
through the Rooms and see whether he's there."
This suggestion was carried out, but although we searched every table
we failed to discover him. Until ten o'clock we lounged about, then
returned by the express to Nice.
That he should have left us in that abrupt manner was certainly
curious; but as Gerald declared he was always erratic in his
movements, and that his explanation in the morning would undoubtedly
be found entirely satisfactory, we returned together to the hotel,
where we wished our companion good-night, and ascended in the
elevator to our own sitting-room on the second floor.
My good fortune pleased me, but my heart was nevertheless
overburdened with sorrow. The sight of Ernest had reopened the
gaping wound which I had so strenuously striven to heal by the aid of
lighter woes. I now thought only of him.
Ulrica, who was in front of me, pushed open the door of our
sitting-room and switched on the light, but ere she crossed the
threshold she drew back quickly with a loud cry of horror and
surprise.
In an instant I was at her side.
"Look!" she gasped, terrified, pointing to the opposite side of the
room. "Look!"
The body of a man was lying, face downwards, upon the carpet, half
hidden by the round table in the centre of the room.
Together we dashed forward to his assistance and tried to raise him,
but were unable. We succeeded, however, in turning him upon his
side, and then his white, hard-set features became suddenly revealed.
"My God!" I cried, awe-stricken. "What has occurred? Why--it's
Reggie!"
"Reggie!" shrieked Ulrica, kneeling quickly and placing her gloved
hand eagerly upon his heart. "Reggie!--and he's dead!".
"Impossible!" I gasped, almost petrified by the hideous discovery.
"It is true," she went on, her face white as that of the dead man
before us. "Look, there's blood upon his lips. See--the chair over
there is thrown down and broken. There has apparently been a fierce
struggle."
Next instant a thought occurred to me, and bending, I quickly
searched his inner pockets. The bank-notes were not there.
Then the ghastly truth became entirely plain.
Reginald Thorne had been robbed and murdered.