BREAKING THE BANK
There were not many people in this part of the Casino gardens. A few
love-making couples and a handful of others who preferred the chilly
quietude of Nature to the throng of the interior promenade, made up the
occupants of the winding paths that cover the seaward slope.
At last Mensmore halted. There was no one in front, and he turned to
look if the terrace were clear behind him. He caught sight of Bruce, but
did not recognize him, and leant against a low wall, ostensibly to gaze
at the sea until the other had passed.
Claude came up to him and cried cheerily:
"Hello! Is that you, Mr. Mensmore? Isn't it a lovely night?"
Mensmore, startled at being thus unexpectedly addressed by name, wheeled
about, stared at the new-comer, and said, very stiffly:
"Yes; but I felt rather seedy in the Casino, so I came here to be
alone."
"Of course," answered the barrister. "You look a little out of sorts.
Perhaps got a chill, eh? It is dangerous weather here, particularly on
these heavenly evenings. Come back with me to the hotel, and have a
stiff brandy and soda. It will brace you up."
Mensmore flushed a little at this persistence.
"I tell you," he growled, "that I only require to be left in peace, and
I shall soon recover from my indisposition. I am awfully obliged to you,
but--"
"But you wish me to walk on and mind my own business?"
"Not exactly that, old chap. Please don't think me rude. I am very
sorry, but I _can't_ talk much to-night."
"So I understand. That is why I think it is best for you to have
company, even such disagreeable companionship as my own."
"Confound it, man," cried the other, now thoroughly irritated; "tell me
which way you are going and I will take the other. Why on earth cannot
you take a polite hint, and leave me to myself?"
"It is precisely because I am good at taking a hint that I positively
refuse to leave you until you are safely landed at your hotel. Indeed, I
may stick to you then for some hours."
"The devil take you! What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I say."
"If you don't quit this instant I will punch your head for you."
"Ah! You are recovering already. But before you start active exercise
take your overcoat off. That revolver in the breast pocket might go off
accidentally, you know. Besides, as I shall hit back, I might fetch my
knuckles against it, and that would be hardly fair. Otherwise, I can do
as much in the punching line as you can, any day."
This reply utterly disconcerted Mensmore.
"Look here," he said, avoiding Bruce's steadfast gaze, "what are you
talking about? What has it got to do with you, anyhow?"
"Oh, a great deal. My business principally consists in looking after
other people's affairs. Just now it is my definite intention to prevent
you from blowing out your brains, or what passes for them."
"Then all I can say is that I wish you were in Jericho. It is your own
fault if you get into trouble over this matter. Had you gone about your
business I would have waited. As it is--"
It so happened that the guard, having nothing better to do, strolled
along the terraces by the same path that Mensmore and Bruce had
followed. The first sight that met his astonished eyes, when in the
flood of moonlight he discovered their identity, was the spectacle of
these two springing at each other like a pair of wild cats.
"_Parbleu_," he shouted, "the solitary ones are fighting!"
He ran forward, drawing his short sword, ready to stick the weapon into
either of the combatants if the majesty of the law in his own person
were not at once respected.
In reality, the affair was simple enough. Mensmore made an ineffectual
attempt to draw his revolver, and Bruce pinioned him before he could get
his hand up to his pocket. Both men were equally matched, and it was
difficult to say how the struggle might have ended had not the
sword-brandishing guard appeared on the scene.
Claude, even in this excited situation, kept his senses. Mensmore, blind
with rage and the madness of one who would voluntarily plunge into the
Valley of the Shadow, took heed of naught save the effort to rid himself
of the restraining clutch.
"Put away your sword. Seize his arms from behind. He is a suicide,"
shouted the barrister to the gesticulating and shrieking Frenchman.
Fortunately, Bruce was an excellent linguist. The man caught Mensmore's
arms, put a knee in the small of his back, and doubled him backwards
with a force that nearly dislocated his spine. In the same instant
Claude secured the revolver, which he promptly pocketed.
"It is well," he said to the guard. "Here is a louis. Say nothing, but
leave us."
"Monsieur understands that the honor of a French policeman--"
"I understand that if there is any report made of this affair to the
authorities you will be dismissed for negligence. Had this lunatic been
left to your care he would now have been lying here dead. Do you doubt
me?"
The guard hesitated. "Monsieur mentioned a louis," he said, for Bruce's
finger and thumb had returned the coin to his waistcoat pocket.
This transaction satisfactorily ended, Bruce accosted Mensmore, who was
awkwardly twisting himself to see if his backbone were all right.
"You are not hurt, I hope?"
"It is matterless. Why could you not let me finish the business in my
own way?"
"Because the world has some use for a man like you. Because you are a
moral coward, and require support from a stronger nature. Because I did
not want to think of that girl crying her eyes out to-morrow when she
read of your death, or heard of it, as she assuredly would have done."
Mensmore, though still furious at his fellow-countryman's interference,
was visibly amazed at this final reference.
"What do you know about her?" he cried.
"Nothing, save what my eyes tell me."
"They seem to tell you a remarkable lot about my affairs."
"Possibly. Meanwhile I want you to give me your word of honor that you
will not make any further attempt on your life during the next seven
days."
"The word of honor of a disgraced man! Will you accept it?"
"Most certainly."
"You are a queer chap, and no mistake. Very well, I give it. At the same
time, I cannot help dying of starvation. I lost my last cent to-night at
roulette. I am hopelessly involved in debts which I cannot pay. I have
no prospects and no friends. You are not doing me a kindness, my dear
fellow, in keeping me alive, even for seven days."
"You might have obtained your fare to London from the authorities of the
Casino?"
"Hardly. I lost very little at roulette. I am not such a fool. My losses
are nearly all in bets over the pigeon-shooting match which I ought to
have won. I was backing myself at a game where I was apparently sure to
succeed."
"Until you were beaten by a woman's voice."
"Yes, wizard. I am too dazed to wonder at you sufficiently. Yet I would
have lost fifty times for her sake, though it was for her sake that I
wanted to win."
"Come, let us smoke. Sit down, and tell me all about it."
They took the nearest seat, lighting cigarettes. The guard, watching
them from the shade of a huge palm-tree, murmured:
"Holy Virgin, what madmen are these English! They move apart, unknown;
they fight; they fraternize; they consume tobacco--all within five
minutes."
And he lovingly felt for the louis to assure himself that he was not
dreaming.
"There is not much to tell," said Mensmore, who had quite recovered his
self-control, and was now trying to sum up the man who had so curiously
entered his life at the moment when he had decided to do away with it.
"I came here, being a poor chap living mostly on my wits, to go in for
the pigeon-shooting tournaments. I won several, and was in fair funds.
Then I fell in love. The girl is rich, well-connected, and all that sort
of thing. She is the first good influence that has crossed my life, so I
thought that perhaps my luck was now going to turn. I backed myself for
all I was worth, and more, to win the championship. If it came off I
should have won over L3,000. As it is, I owe L500, which must be paid on
Monday. My total assets, after I settled my hotel bill and sent a cheque
to a chum who took some of my bets in his own name, was L16. Now I have
nothing. So you see--"
"Yes," interrupted Bruce, "it is a hard case. But death is no
settlement. Nobody gets paid, and everybody is worried."
"My dear fellow, my life is in your keeping for seven days. After that,
I presume, I take myself in charge again."
The barrister took thought for a while before he inquired:
"Why did you go to the Casino to-night, if you did not patronize the
tables as a rule?"
The other colored somewhat and laughed sarcastically.
"Just a final bit of folly. I dreamt that my luck had turned."
"Dreamt?"
"Yes, last night. Three times did I imagine that I was playing roulette,
and that after a certain number--whether thirteen or twenty-three I was
uncertain--turned up, there was a run of seventeen on the red. The funny
thing is that I had an impression that the number was twenty-three,
but with a doubt that it might be thirteen. I remember, during a
sub-conscious state in the third dream, resolving to listen and look
more carefully to discover the exact number. But again things got
blurred. The only clear point was that the run of seventeen on the red
commenced at once."
"Well?"
"Well, I took my remaining cash, went to the Casino, became a bit
impatient when neither number turned up for quite a while, and when
thirteen appeared I backed the red. But four times it was the black that
won."
"So I saw."
"Have you been keeping guard over me?"
"Yes, in a sort of way."
"You are a queer chap. I can't help saying that I am obliged to you. But
it won't do any good. I am absolutely dead broke."
"Now listen to me. I will pay your fare back to London and give you
something to live on until I return a week hence. Then you must come to
see me, and I will help you into some sort of situation. But you must
once and for all abandon this notion of suicide."
"What about my debts?"
"Confound your debts. Tell people to wait until you are able to pay
them."
"And--and the girl?"
"If she is worth having she will give you a chance of making a living
sufficient to enable you to marry her. She is of age, I suppose, and can
marry any one she likes."
Mensmore puffed his cigarette in silence for fully a minute. Then he
said:
"You are a very decent sort, Mr.--"
"Bruce--Claude Bruce is my name."
"Well, Mr. Bruce, you propose to hand me L10 for my railway fare, and,
say, L5 for my existence, until we meet again in London, in exchange for
which you purchase the rights in my life indefinitely, accidents and
reasonable wear and tear excepted."
"Exactly!"
"Make it L20, with five louis down, and I accept."
"Why the stipulation?"
"I want to back my dream. The number is twenty-three. It evidently was
not thirteen. I want to see that thing through. I will back the red
after twenty-three turns up, and if I lose I shall be quite satisfied."
"What if I refuse?"
"Then I don't care a bit what happens during the next seven days. After
that, _au revoir_, should we happen to meet across the divide. Please
make up your mind quickly. That run on the red may come and go while we
are sitting here."
Bruce opened his pocket-book. "Here," he said with a smile, "I will give
you four hundred francs. You will reach the maximum more quickly if you
are right."
Mensmore's face lit up with excitement. "By Jove, you are a brick," he
said. "So you really trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then give me back my revolver."
Without a word, Bruce handed him the weapon.
Mensmore extracted the cartridges and threw them into a clump of shrubs.
"Come," he cried; "come with me to the Casino. You will see something.
This is not my own luck; it is borrowed. Come, quick!"
They raced off, Bruce himself being more fired with the zest of the
thing than he cared to admit. Within the Casino all the tables were now
crowded, but Mensmore hurried to that at which he sat during his earlier
visit.
"It was here that I played in my dream," he whispered, "soon after I
came to it."
He edged through the onlookers, closely followed by Bruce. Neither cared
for the scowls and injured looks cast at them by the people whom they
forced out of the way.
The Italian, the winner of half an hour ago, had come back like a moth
to the candle. Now he was getting his wings singed. At last, with a
groan, he hastily rose, but as a final effort flung the maximum, six
thousand francs, on the black.
The disc whirled and slowly slackened pace, the ball rested in one of
the little squares, and the _croupier's_ monotonous words came:
"_Vingt-trois_, _rouge_, _impair_, _et passe_!"
Out bounced the Italian, and Mensmore seized his chair, turning to Bruce
with white face as he murmured:
"You hear! Twenty-three!"
The barrister nodded, and placed his hands on Mensmore's shoulders as
though to steady him.
Mensmore staked his ten louis on the red. They became twenty, then
forty. Another whirl and they were eighty. A fourth made them one
hundred and sixty.
Mensmore was now so agitated that the table and the players swam before
his eyes. But Bruce, under the stress of exciting circumstances, had the
gift of remaining preternaturally cool.
At the fifth coup the sum to Mensmore's credit was L256. He would have
left it all on the table had not Bruce withdrawn L16 in notes, as the
maximum is L240.
When Mensmore won the sixth and seventh coups a buzz of animated
interest passed around the board. People began to note the run on the
red, together with the fact that a man was staking the maximum each
time. Even the _croupiers_ cast fleeting glances at the new-comer, when,
several times in succession, the long rake pushed across the table the
little pile of money and notes.
Thenceforth Mensmore sat in a state of stupor more pronounced now that
he was playing and awake than when he dreamt he was playing.
Each time he mechanically staked the maximum and received back twice as
much, while the eager onlookers now burst into cries of wonder that
brought others running from all parts of the room.
But Bruce did not lose count.
When the red had turned up seventeen times, and the amount to Mensmore's
credit was L3,128, he shook the latter violently as he was about to
shove forward another maximum, and, of his own volition, placed the
money on the black.
"_Douze_, _noir_, _pair et manque_," sang out the _croupier_, and Bruce
hissed into Mensmore's ear:
"Get up at once."
His strangely made acquaintance obeyed, gathered up his gold and notes,
fastened them securely in an inner pocket, and the pair quitted the
Casino amid extravagant protestations of good-will and friendship from
all the voluble foreigners present, having attracted not a little
attention from the less demonstrative Americans and English in the room.
It was some time before the roulette tables began their orderly round
again, for Mensmore's sensational performance was in everybody's mouth.
The highest recorded sum is twenty-three on the black, but a run of
eighteen on the red is sufficiently remarkable to keep Monte Carlo in
talk for a week.
Albert Mensmore certainly could not complain that the events of the
particular evening were dull. For one hour at least he lived in the fire
that consumes, for he stepped back from the porch of dishonored death to
find himself the possessor of a sum more than sufficient for his
reasonable requirements.
The pace was rapid and almost fatal.