FALSE LUCK.
Though confounded with what I had seen of the proceedings of Kingsley, I
was yet willing to promote, so far as I could, the purpose for which we
came. I felt too, that, unless I played, that purpose, or my own, might
reasonably incur suspicion. To rove through the several rooms of a
gambling-house, surveying closely the proceedings of others, without
partaking, in however slight a degree, in the common business of the
establishment, was neither good policy nor good manners. Unless there to
play, what business had I there? Accordingly I resolved to play. But of
these games I knew nothing. It was necessary to choose among them,
and, without a choice I turned to one of the tables where the genius of
Roulette presided. A motley group, none of whom I knew, surrounded it. I
placed my dollar upon one of the spots, red or black, I know not which,
and saw it, in a moment after, spooned up with twenty others by the
banker. I preferred this form of play to any other, for the simple
reason that it did not task my own faculties, and left me free to bestow
my glances on the proceedings of my friend. But I soon discovered that
the contagion of play is irresistible; and so far from putting my stake
down at intervals, and with philosophic indifference, I found myself,
after a little while, breathlessly eager in the results. These, after
the first few turns of the machine, had ceased to be unfavorable. I was
confounded to discover myself winning. Instead of one I put down two
Mexicans.
“Put down ten,” said one of the bystanders, a dark, sulky-looking little
yellow man, who seemed a veteran at these places. “You are in luck--make
the most of it.”
The master of the ceremonies scowled upon the speaker; and this
determined me to obey his suggestions. I did so, and doubled the money;
left my original stake and the winnings on the same spot, and doubled
that also; and it was not long before, under this stimulus of success,
and the novelty of my situation, I found myself as thoroughly anxious
and intensely interested, as if I had gone to the place in compliance
with a natural passion. I know not how long I had continued in this way,
but I was still fortunate. I had doubled my stakes repeatedly, and my
pockets were crammed with money.
“Stop now, if you are wise,” whispered the same sulky-looking little man
who had before urged me to go on more boldly, as he sidled along by me
for this object; “never ride a good horse to death. There's a time to
stop just as there's a time to push. You had better stop now. Stake
another dollar and you lose all your winnings.”
“Let the gentleman play his own game, Brinckoff. I don't see why you
come here to spoil sport.”
Such was the remark of the keeper of the table. He had overheard my
counsellor. He felt his losses, and was angry. I saw that, and it
determined me. I took the counsel of the stranger. I was the more
willing to do so, as I reproached myself for my inattention to my
friend. It was time to see what had been his progress, and I prepared
to leave the theatre of my own success. Before doing so, I turned to
my counsellor, and thus addressed him: “Your advice has made me win;
I trust I will not offend a gentleman who has been so courteous, by
requesting him to take my place upon a small capital.”
I put twenty pieces into his hand.
“I am but a young beginner,” I continued, “and I owe you for my first
lesson.”
“You are too good,” he said, but his hand closed over the dollars. The
keeper of the table renewed his murmurs of discontent as he saw me turn
away.
“Ah! bah! Petit, what's the use to grumble?” demanded my representative.
“Do you suppose I will give up my sport for yours? When would I get a
sixpence to stake, if it were not that I was kind to young fellows just
beginning? There; growl no more; the twenty Mexicans upon the red!”
The next minute my gratuity was swallowed up in the great spoon of
the banker. I was near enough, to see the result. I placed another ten
pieces in the hand of the unsuccessful gambler.
“Very good,” said he; “very much obliged to you; but if you please, I
will do no more to-night. It's not my lucky night. I've lost every set.”
“As you please--when you please.”
“You are a gentleman,” he said; “the sooner you go home the better. A
young beginner seldom wins in the small hours.”
This was said in another whisper. I thanked him for his further
suggestion, and turned away, leaving him to a side squabble with the
banker, who finally concluded by telling him that he never wished to see
him at his table.
“The more fool you, Petit,” said Brinckoff; “for the youngster that wins
comes back, and he does not always win. You finish him in the end as you
finished me, and what more would you have?”
The rest, and there was much more, was inaudible to me. I hurried from
the place somewhat ashamed of my success. I doubt whether I should have
had the like feelings had I lost. As it was, never did possession seem
more cumbrous than the mixed gold, paper, and silver, with which my
pockets were burdened. I gladly thought of Kingsley, to avoid thinking
of myself. It was certain, I fancied, that he had not lost, else how
could he have continued to play? My anxiety hurried me into the room
where I had left him.
They sat together, he and Cleveland, as before. I observed that there
was now an expression of anxiety--not intense, but obvious enough--upon
the countenance of the latter. Philip, too, the mulatto, stood on one
side, contemplating the proceedings with an air of grave doubt and
uncertainty in his countenance. No such expression distinguished the
face of Kingsley. Never did a light-hearted, indifferent, almost mocking
spirit, shine out more clearly from any human visage. At times he
chuckled as with inward satisfaction. Not unfrequently he laughed aloud,
and his reckless “Ha! ha! ha!” had more than once reached and startled
me in the midst of my own play, in the adjoining room. The opponents had
discarded their “pictures,” They were absolutely rolling dice for their
stakes. I saw that the wallet of Kingsley lay untouched, and quite as
full as ever, in the spot where he had first laid it down. A pile of
money lay open beside him; the gold and silver pieces keeping down the
paper. When he saw me approach, he laughed aloud, as he cried out:--
“Have they disburdened you, Clifford? Help yourself. I am punishing my
enemy famously. I can spare it.”
A green, sickly smile mantled the lips of Cleveland. He replied in low,
soft tones, such as I could only partly hear; and, a moment after, he
swept the stake before the two, to his own side of the table. The amount
was large, but the features of Kingsley remained unaltered, while his
laugh was renewed as heartily as if he really found pleasure in the
loss.
“Ha! ha! ha! that is encouraging; but the end is not yet. The tug is yet
to come!”
I now perceived that Kingsley took up his wallet with one hand while he
spread his handkerchief on his lap with the other. Into this he drew the
pile of money which he had loose before on his side of the table, and
appeared to busy himself in counting into it the contents of the wallet.
This he did with such adroitness, that, though I felt assured he had
restored the wallet to his bosom with its bulk undiminished, yet I am
equally certain that no such conclusion could have been reached by any
other person. This done, he lifted the handkerchief, full as it was, and
dashed it down upon the table.
“There! cover that, if you be a man!” was his speech of defiance.
“How much?” huskily demanded Cleveland.
“All!”
“Ah!”
“Yes, all. I know not the number of dollars, cents, or sixpences, but
face it with your winnings: there need be no counting. It is loss of
time. Stir the stuff with your fingers, and you will find it as good,
and as much, as you have here to put against it. On that hangs my fate
or yours. Mine for certain! I tell you, Mr. Cleveland, it is all!”
Cleveland lifted the ends of the handkerchief, as if weighing its
contents; and then, without more scruple, flung into it a pile not
unlike it in bulk and quality: a handful of mixed gold paper, and
silver. Kingsley grasped the dice before him, and with a single shake
dashed them out upon the table.
“Six, four, two,” cried Philip with a degree of excitement which did not
appear in either of the active opponents. Meanwhile my heart was in my
mouth. I looked on Kingsley with a sentiment of wonder. Every muscle
of his face was composed into the most quiet indifference. He saw my
glance, and smilingly exclaimed:--
“I trust to my star, Clifford. Sans Souci--remember!”
No time was allowed for more. The moment was a breathless one. Cleveland
had taken up the dice. His manner was that of the most singular
deliberation. His eyes were cast down upon the table. His lips strongly
closed together; and now it was that I could see the keen, piercing look
which Kingsley addressed to every movement of the gambler. I watched him
also. He did not immediately throw the dice, and I was conscious of some
motion which he made with his hands before he did so. What that motion
was, however, I could neither have said nor conceived. But I saw a grim
smile, full of intelligence, suddenly pass over Kingsley's lips. The
dice descended upon the table with a sound that absolutely made me
tremble.
“Five, four, six!” cried Philip, loudly, with tones of evident
exultation. I felt a sense like that of suffocation, which was
unrelieved even by the seemingly unnatural laughter of my companion. He
did laugh, but in a manner to render less strange and unnatural that in
which he had before indulged. Even as he laughed he rose and possessed
himself of the dice which the other had thrown down.
“The stakes are mine,” cried Cleveland, extending his hand toward the
handkerchief.
“No!” said Kingsley, with a voice of thunder, and as he spoke, he handed
me the kerchief of money, which I grasped instantly, and thrust with
some difficulty into my bosom. This was done instinctively; I really
had no thoughts of what I was doing. Had I thought at all I should most
probably have refused to receive it.
“How!” exclaimed Cleveland, his face becoming suddenly pale. “The cast
is mine--fifteen to twelve!”
“Ay, scoundrel, but the game I played for is mine! As for the cast, you
shall try another which you shall relish less. Do you see these?”
He showed the dice which he had gathered from the table. The gambler
made an effort to snatch them from his hands.
“Try that again,” said Kingsley, “and I lay this hickory over your pate,
in a way that shall be a warning to it for ever.”
By this time several persons from the neighboring tables and the
adjoining rooms, hearing the language of strife, came rushing in.
Kingsley beheld their approach without concern. There were several old
gamblers among them, but the greater number were young ones.
“Gentlemen,” said Kingsley, “I am very glad to see you. You come at a
good time. I am about to expose a scoundrel to you.”
“You shall answer for this, sir,” stammered Cleveland, in equal rage and
confusion.
“Answer, shall I? By Jupiter! but you shall answer too! And you shall
have the privilege of a first answer, shall you?”
“Mr. Kingsley, what is the meaning of this?” was the demand of a tall,
dark-featured man, who now made his appearance from an inner room, and
whom I now learned, was, in fact, the proprietor of the establishment.
“Ah! Radcliffe--but before another word is wasted put your fingers into
the left breeches pocket of that scoundrel there, and see what you will
find.”
Cleveland would have resisted. Kingsley spoke again to Radcliffe, and
this time in stern language, which was evidently felt by the person to
whom it was addressed.
“Radcliffe, your own credit--nay, safety--will depend upon your showing
that you have no share in this rogue's practice. Search him, if you
would not share his punishment.”
The fellow was awed, and obeyed instantly. Himself, with three others,
grappled with the culprit. He resisted strenuously, but in vain. He was
searched, and from the pocket in question three dice were produced.
“Very good,” said Kingsley; “now examine those dice, gentlemen, and see
if you can detect one of my initials, the letter 'K,' which I scratched
with a pin upon each of them.”
The examination was made, and the letter was found, very small and very
faint, it is true, but still legible, upon the ace square of each of the
dice.
“Very good,” continued Kingsley; “and now, gentlemen, with your leave--”
He opened his hand and displayed the three dice with which Cleveland had
last thrown.
“Here you see the dice with which this worthy gentleman hoped to empty
my pockets. These are they which he last threw upon the table. He
counted handsomely by them! I threw, just before him, with those which
you have in your hand. I had contrived to mark them previously, this
very evening, in order that I might know them again. Why should he put
them in his pocket, and throw with these? As this question is something
important, I propose to answer it to your satisfaction as well as my
own; and, for this reason, I came here, as you see, prepared to make
discoveries.”
He drew from his pocket, while he spoke, a small saddler's hammer and
steel-awl. Fixing with the sharp point of the awl in the ace spot of the
dice, he struck it a single but sudden blow with the hammer, split
each of the dice in turn, and disclosed to the wondering, or seemingly
wondering, eyes of all around, a little globe of lead in each, inclining
to the lowest numeral, and necessarily determining the roll of the dice
so as to leave the lightest section uppermost.
“Here, gentlemen,” continued Kingsley, “you see by what process I have
lost my money. But it is not in the dice alone. Look at these cards.
Do you note this trace of the finger-nail, here, and there, and
there--scarcely to be seen unless it is shown to you, but clear enough
to the person that made it, and is prepared to look for it. Radcliffe,
your fellow, Philip, has been concerned in this business. You must
dismiss him, or your visitors will dismiss you. Neither myself nor my
friends will visit you again--nay, more, I denounce you to the police.
Am I understood?”
Radcliffe assented without scruple, evidently not so anxious for justice
as for the safety of his establishment. But it appeared that there were
others in the room not so well pleased with the result. A hubbub
now took place, in which three or four fellows made a rush upon
Kingsley--Cleveland urging and clamoring from the rear, though without
betraying much real desire to get into the conflict.
But the assailants had miscalculated their forces. The youngsters in the
establishment, regarding Kingsley's development as serving the common
cause, were as soon at his side as myself. The scuffle was over in an
instant. One burly ruffian was prostrated by a blow from Kingsley's
club; I had my share in the prostration of a second, and some two others
took to their heels, assisted in their progress by a smart application
from every foot and fist that happened to be convenient enough for such
a service.
But Cleveland alone remained. Why he had not shared the summary fate of
the rest it would be difficult to say, unless it was because he had kept
aloof from the active struggle to which he had egged them on. Perhaps,
too, a better reason--he was reserved for some more distinguishing
punishment. Why he had shown no disposition for flight himself, was
answered as soon as Kingsley laid down his club, which he did with a
laugh of exemplary good-nature the moment he had felled with it his
first assailant. The flight of his allies left the path open between
himself and Cleveland, and, suddenly darting upon him, the desperate
gambler aimed a blow at his breast with a dirk which he had drawn that
instant from his own. He exclaimed as he struck:--
“Here is something that escaped your search. Take this! this!”
Kingsley was just lifting up the cap, which he had worn that night, from
the table to his brows. Instinctively he dashed it into the face of
his assassin, and his simple evolution saved him. The next moment the
fearless fellow had grappled with his enemy, torn the weapon from his
grasp, and, seizing him around the body as if he had been an infant,
moved with him to an open window looking out upon a neighboring court.
The victim struggled, yelled for succor, but before any of us could
interpose, the resolute and powerful man in whose hold he writhed and
struggled vainly, with the gripe of a master, had thrust him through the
opening, his heels, in their upward evolutions, shattering a dozen of
the panes as he disappeared from sight below. We all concluded that he
was killed. We were in an upper chamber, which I estimated to be twenty
or thirty feet from the ground. I was too much shocked for speech, and
rushed to the window, expecting to behold the mangled and bloody corpse
of the miserable criminal beneath. The laughter of Radclifle half
reassured me.
“He will not suffer much hurt,” said he; “there is something to break
his fall.”
I looked down, and there the unhappy wretch was seen squatting and
clinging to the slippery shingles of an old stable, unhurt, some twelve
feet below us, unable to reascend, and very unwilling to adopt the only
alternative which the case presented---that of descending softly upon
the rank bed of stable-ordure which the provident care of the gardener
had raised up on every hand, the reeking fumes of which were potent
enough to expel us very soon from our place of watch at the window.
Of the further course of the elegant culprit we took no heed. The
ludicrousness of his predicament had the effect of turning the whole
adventure into merriment among those who remained in the establishment;
and availing ourselves of the clamorous mirth of the parties, we made
our escape from the place with a feeling, on my part, of indescribable
relief.