SOME GOOD RESOLUTIONS
Once safe in the seclusion of Claude's sitting-room Mensmore almost
collapsed. The strain had been a severe one, and now he had to pay the
penalty by way of reaction.
The barrister forced him to swallow a stiff brandy and soda, and then
wished him to retire to rest, but the other protested with some show of
animation.
"Let me talk, for goodness' sake!" he cried. "I cannot be alone. You
have seen me through a lot of trouble to-night. Stick to me for another
hour, there's a good fellow."
"With pleasure. Perhaps it is the best thing you can do, after all. Let
us see how much you have won."
Bruce made a calculation on a sheet of paper and said: "Exclusive of the
original stake of ten louis you ought to have L3,128."
Mensmore pulled out of his pocket the crumpled bundle of notes and
bills. Claude's notes were among them, and he tossed them across the
table with a smile.
"There's your capital. I will see if the total is all right before we go
shares."
Claude nodded, and Mensmore began to jot down the items of his valuable
package. He bothered with the figures for some time but could not get
them right. Finally he tossed everything over to the other, saying:
"No matter how I count, I can't get this calculation straight. Seventeen
coups, beginning with ten louis, work out at L3,128 all right enough.
But in this lot there is L3,368, and they don't pay twice at the
Casino."
The barrister thought for a moment, and then laughed heartily. "I
remember now," he said; "I kept careful count of the series of
seventeen, or eighteen, to be exact. On my own account, as you were too
dazed to notice anything, I put a maximum on the black. Your dream
turned up trumps, as the series stopped and black won. Hence the odd
L240."
"Then that is yours," said the other gravely. "I will take L1,128 to
square all my debts, and we go shares in the balance, a thousand each,
if you think that fair. If not I will gladly hand over the lot, after
paying my debts, I mean."
Mensmore's seriousness impressed the barrister more than any other
incident of that dramatic evening.
"You forget," he replied, "that I told you I had money in plenty for my
own needs. You must keep every farthing except my own L8, which you do
not now need. No. Please do not argue. I will consent to no other
course. This turn of Fortune's wheel should provide you with sufficient
capital to branch out earnestly in your career, whatever it be. I will
ask my interest in different manner."
"I can never repay you, in gratitude, at any rate. And there is another
who will be thankful to you when she knows. Ask anything you like. Make
any stipulation you please. I agree to it."
"It is a bargain. Sign this."
Bruce took a sheet of notepaper, bearing the crest of the Hotel du
Cercle, dated it, and wrote:
"I promise that, for the space of twelve months, I will not
make a bet of any sort, or gamble at any game of chance."
When Mensmore read the document his face fell a little. "Won't you
except pigeon-shooting?" he said. "I am sure to beat that Russian next
time."
"I can allow no exceptions."
"But why limit me for twelve months?"
"Because if in that time you do not gain sense enough to stop risking
your happiness, even your life, upon the turn of a card or the flight of
a bird, the sooner thereafter you shoot yourself the less trouble you
will bring upon those connected with you."
"You are a rum chap," murmured Mensmore, "and you put matters pretty
straight, too. However, here goes. You don't bar me from entering for
sweepstakes."
He signed the paper, and tossed it over to Bruce, while the latter did
not comment upon the limitation of his intentions imposed by Mensmore's
final sentence. The man undoubtedly was a good shot, and during his
residence in the Riviera he might pick up some valuable prizes.
"And now," said the barrister, "may I ask as a friend to what use you
intend to put your newly found wealth?"
"Oh, that is simple enough. I have to pay L500 which I lost in bets over
that beastly unlucky match. Then I have a splendid 'spec,' into which I
will now be able to place about L2,000--a thing which I have good reason
to believe will bring me in at least ten thou' within the year, and
there is nearly a thousand pounds to go on with. And all thanks to you."
"Never mind thanking me. I am only too glad to have taken such a part in
the affair. I will not forget this night as long as I live."
"Nor I. Just think of it. I might be lying in the gardens now, or in
some mortuary, with half my head blown off."
"Tell me," said Bruce, between the contemplative puffs of a cigar, "what
induced you to think of suicide?"
"It was a combination of circumstances," replied the other. "You must
understand that I was somewhat worried about financial and family
matters when I came to Monte Carlo. It was not to gamble, in a sense,
that I remained here. I have loafed about the world a good deal, but I
may honestly say I never made a fool of myself at cards or backing
horses. At most kinds of sport I am fairly proficient, and in
pigeon-shooting, which goes on here extensively, I am undoubtedly an
expert. For instance, all this season I have kept myself in funds simply
by means of these competitions."
His hearer nodded approvingly.
"Well, in the midst of my minor troubles, I must needs go and fall over
head and ears in love--a regular bad case. She is the first woman I ever
spoke two civil words to. We met at a picnic along the Corniche Road,
and she sat upon me so severely that I commenced to defend myself by
showing that I was not such a surly brute as I looked. By Jove, in a
week we were engaged."
The barrister indulged in a judicial frown.
"No. It's none of your silly, sentimental affairs in which people part
and meet months afterwards with polite inquiries after each other's
health. I am not made that way; neither is Phil--Phyllis is her name,
you know. This is for life. I am just bound up in her, and she would go
through fire and water for me. But she is rich, the only daughter of a
Midland iron-master with tons of money. Her people are awfully nice, and
I think they approve of me, though they have no idea that Phil and I
are engaged."
He paused to gulp down a strong decoction of brandy and soda. The
difficult part of his story was coming.
"You can quite believe," he continued, "that I did not want to ask her
father, Sir William Browne--he was knighted by the late Queen for his
distinguished municipal services--to give his daughter to a chap who
hadn't a cent. He supposes I am fairly well off, living as I do, and I
can't bear acting under false pretences. I hate it like poison, though
in this world a man often has to do what he doesn't like. However, this
time I determined to be straight and above board. It was a very odd
fact, but I just wanted L3000 to enable me to make a move which, I tell
you, ought to result in a very fair sum of money, sufficient, at any
rate, to render it a reasonable proposition for Phil and me to get
married."
Claude was an appreciative listener. These love stories of real life are
often so much more dramatic than the fictions of the novel or the stage.
"The opportunity came, to my mind, in this big tournament. I had no
difficulty of getting odds in six or seven to one to far more than I was
able to pay if I lost. Phil came into the scheme with me--she knows all
about me, you know--and we both regarded it as a certainty. Then the
collapse came. She wanted to get the money from her mother to enable me
to pay up, but I would not hear of it. I pretended that I could raise
the wind some other way. The fact is I was wild with myself and with my
luck generally. Then there was the disgrace of failing to settle on
Monday, combined with the general excitement of that dream and a
fearfully disturbed night. To make a long story short, I thought the
best thing to do was to try a final plunge, and if it failed, to quit.
I even took steps to make Phil believe I was a bad lot, so that she
might not fret too much after me."
Mensmore's voice was a little unsteady in this last sentence. The
barrister tried to cheer him by a little bit of raillery:
"I hope you have not succeeded too well?" he laughed.
"Oh, it is all right now. I mean that I left her some papers which would
bring things to her knowledge that, unexplained by me, would give any
one a completely false impression."
The subject was evidently a painful one, so Bruce did not pursue it.
"About this speculation of yours," he said. "Are you sure it's all
right, and that you will not lose your money?"
"It is as certain as any business can be. It is a matter I thoroughly
understand, but I will tell you all about it. If you will pardon me a
moment I will bring you the papers, as I should like to have your
advice, and it is early yet. You don't want to go to bed, I suppose?"
"Not for hours."
Mensmore rose, but before he reached the door a gentle tap heralded the
appearance of the hall-porter.
"There is a letter for the gentleman. Monsieur is not in his room. He is
reported to be here, so I bring it."
Mensmore took the note, read it with a smile and a growing flush, and
handed it to the barrister, saying: "Under the circumstances I think you
ought to see this. Isn't she a brick?"
The tiny missive ran:
"_Dearest One_,--You must forgive me, but we are both so
miserable about that wretched money that I told mother
everything. She likes you, and though she gave me a blowing up,
she has promised to give me L500 to-morrow. We can never thank
her sufficiently. Do come around and see me for a minute. I
will be in the verandah until eleven.
"Ever yours,
"PHYLLIS."
Claude returned the note.
"Luck! you're the luckiest fellow in the South of France!" he said.
"Why, here's the mother plotting with the daughter on your behalf. Sir
William hasn't the ghost of a chance. Off you go to that blessed
verandah."
When Mensmore had quitted the hotel Bruce descended to the bureau to
take up the threads of his neglected quest. The letter to Sydney H.
Corbett was still unclaimed, and he thought he was justified in
examining it. On the reverse of the envelope was the embossed stamp of
an electric-lighting company, so the contents were nothing more
important than a bill.
An hour later Mensmore joined him in the billiard-room, radiant and
excited.
"Great news," he said. "I squared everything with Lady Browne. Told her
I was only chaffing Phil about the five hundred, because she spoiled my
aim by shrieking out. Sir William has chartered a steam yacht to go for
a three weeks' cruise along the Gulf of Genoa and the Italian coast.
They have put him up to ask me in the morning to join the party. Great
Scott! what a night I'm having!"
They parted soon afterwards, and next morning Bruce was informed that
his friend had gone out early, leaving word that he had been summoned to
breakfast at the Grand Hotel, where Sir William Browne was staying.
During the afternoon Mensmore came to him like a whirlwind. "We're off
to-day," he said. "By the way, where shall I find you in London?"
The barrister gave him his address, and Mensmore, handing him a card,
said, "My permanent address is given here, the Orleans Club, St.
James's. But I will look you up first. I shall be in town early in
March. And you?"
"Oh, I shall be home much sooner. Good-bye, and don't let your good luck
spoil you."
"No fear! Wait until you know Phyllis. She would keep any fellow all
right once he got his chance, as I have done. Good-bye, and--and--God
bless you!"
During the next three days Bruce devoted himself sedulously to the
search for Corbett. He inquired in every possible and impossible place,
but the man had utterly vanished.
Nor did he come to claim his letter at the Hotel du Cercle. It remained
stuck on the baize-covered board until it was covered with dust, and the
clerk of the bureau had grown weary of watching people who scrutinized
the receptacle for their correspondence.
Others came and asked for Corbett--sharp-featured men with imperials and
long moustaches--the interest taken in the man was great, but
unrequited. He never appeared.
At last the season ended, the hotel was closed, and the mysterious
letter was shot into the dustbin.