CHAPTER THREE
THE SMILES AND FROWNS OF FORTUNE
“I SAY, Margot, I think I’ll go to the Casino to-night.”
The girl looked at him in surprise. It had been his habit after supper to light his pipe and read until bedtime, or else work at his eternal permanencies. She had enjoyed these quiet evenings in the glow of the shaded lamp, bending over a bit of embroidery, listening to the puff of his pipe, and the rustle of his Daily Mail.
“I didn’t make the ‘necessary’ to-day,—only a couple of louis. The Rooms were so squalid I got a beast of a headache, and had to take a walk on the hill. I’ll get that extra win this evening.”
“Oh, please don’t go. Something tells me if you do you’ll be unlucky.”
“Nonsense. It’s not a question of luck. My system is misfortune proof. Luck or no luck it will win. If you are lonely, why don’t you go to the cinema, and amuse yourself?”
But Margot did not want to go out, so with a last glance at her sweet face under its coils of gold he left the room.
“Good little sort,” he thought. “I’m really getting very fond of her.”
As he emerged from the huddle of houses, a moon the shape and colour of a musk melon was rising from the sea. The two cement arms of the harbour held in their closed fists the harbour lights, one emerald, the other ruby.
“The green of hope,” he thought, “aye, and the crimson of tragedy.” He walked slowly up the steep hill, reflecting that three months ago he would have climbed it only with an effort. How this place had bucked him up! He must be careful though. Too much Casino, bad air, excitement,—that was already affecting him. Witness his splitting headache that afternoon. He doubted, though, if he could stay away from it now. It certainly got one,—roulette! The great wheel which symbolized all the smaller wheels whirled you helplessly with it! It was like an eddy in which the players were circling, getting nearer and nearer the centre, until ... down to ruin. Ah! the Wheel! the Wheel! In the evening he found the Casino quite different from the rest of the day. The asthmatic system-players of the morning were in their beds; the cheap-trippers and skimmers of the afternoon had returned to Nice; only four roulette tables were running and the quietness was almost startling.
This was the time when the great hotels poured forth their streams of wealth and fashion, the hour of the élite. Seated on one of the yellow divans beside the money changing booths, he watched the parade. The men wore dinner jackets and their faces were flushed with wine. They had been playing golf or tennis, or motoring in long, luxurious cars; now armed with tickets for the private rooms they came to cap the day with the excitement of losing a few hundred louis. With sparkling eyes and a fluttering air of excitement, their women followed them. Some of them were half naked, like savages. Many had the arms of washerwomen and the speckled shoulders of kitchen maids. Others were skraggy, with flat greenish busts and stringy necks. Each sought to outvie the other in the gorgeousness of her raiment. There were robes of shimmering beads, robes of rich brocade, robes of delicate lace, robes of exquisite embroidery, robes trimmed with gold, and robes hung with lustrous sequins. There were old ugly women in lovely dresses, worthless women with small fortunes on their backs. This luxury and extravagance had something barbaric about it. Hugh had never seen anything like it before. It seemed as if these people had dressed up purposely to amuse him.
“Who toils to keep it up?” he wondered. “What suffering and sacrifice lies behind it? It’s enough to make a chap turn socialist.”
After a while he rose. A number of women with elaborately painted faces were going from table to table, pretending to watch the game, but turning to gaze at some man player with a peculiar little smile. If he took no notice they would sidle off again.
Hugh saw many people he knew, among them Mrs. and Miss Calderbrook. The Calderbrook family seemed to live in the Rooms now. This evening Mr. Calderbrook was not with them, and they were taking advantage of his absence to play with louis instead of five franc pieces. When Hugh saw them lose five louis, he shook his head in mock warning, but they were too engrossed to notice him. Their faces were flushed, their eyes excited. He saw Mrs. Calderbrook take a bill of five hundred francs from her purse and change it into red chips. He was wondering if she was going to risk it all at one time, when his attention was distracted; his own moment to play had come.
The even numbers had been up eight times running; then there had been a break to the odd; then another even. This was his chance. He put a louis on the odd. He lost. He put another louis on the odd. Again he lost. This time he was rather pleased, for it was his buffer stake, and if he had won he would have been where he started. He settled down to his defence. He put three louis on the odd. A loss. He increased it to six. Again a loss. It was beginning to be interesting. Only once before had he gotten so far in his progression. Still with calm assurance he put twelve louis on the odd. Curiously enough the number twelve came up. Lost! Then quite suddenly all his confidence deserted him. He began to get frightened. He fumbled in his pockets. The next stake was to be twenty-five louis. Quick! the ball was already spinning. He handed a note for five hundred francs to the croupier.
“Impair....”
Then he heard the monotonous cry of the spinner: “Numero deux, pair, noir et manque.”
It was incredible, a conspiracy against him. It seemed as if the odd numbers had ceased to exist. He was down to his last stake, fifty-two louis. As he threw it on the table a strange recklessness surged up in him, the irresponsibility that takes hold of the gambler and makes him risk his last dollar on the spin. He had a miserable moment of suspense, then with a nonchalant air the spinner twitched away the ball. Number twenty....
He had lost everything. He was dazed. The great Hall of Light seemed to be full of dark shadows, and the faces of those around him touched with mockery. He was turning to go when a hand gripped his arm. He beheld at his elbow the contumelious countenance of Mr. Gimp.
“How much d’ye want?” snapped the little man, opening a large pocket-book.
“Nothing. I’ve lost everything. Broke! Couldn’t pay you if I borrowed.”
“How much d’ye want?”
Hugh scarcely knew what he was saying. “I’ve lost two thousand. I’d probably win it back this time if I could go on. It can’t always keep coming even.”
“Here, take this two thousand.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Take it, I say.”
Hugh took the notes and threw them on the impair just as the ball was slackening its spin. “Numero treize, noir, impair et manque.”
He had won at last. He took from the table the four thousand francs, and returned Mr. Gimp his two bills, saying:
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know I shouldn’t.”
“Well, I don’t know how to thank you. You saved me. But there.... Bang goes my system.”
“Mighty good job, too. Your system was no use. You were playing against a phenomenon. Don’t you see the phenomenon was lying in wait for you, and sooner or later you were going to go up against it. Bah! this rotten place. Let’s go into the atrium and have a smoke. When I see these fools all crazy over that rotten wheel I am ashamed of the human race.”
Sitting on her usual seat near the door was the Emslie girl; she seemed very tired and started up every time any one came out.
“There!” said Mr. Gimp fiercely, “just look at that kid. Should be in her bed hours ago. Waiting for her fool of a mother who is playing like the devil in the salon privé. If you were to open that woman’s head you’d find a roulette wheel instead of a brain.”
As Hugh left the Casino the night air seemed delicious. The moon was now perfect in shape,—a moon worthy even of Monte Carlo, dappling the oily swell of the harbour with pools of playful quicksilver. He sat on a bench and watched it till his serenity returned.
When at last he entered their room, the lamp was turned very low and behind the grey curtain that divided them he heard the girl breathing gently.
After breakfast next morning, Hugh sat figuring over his green book of permanencies. Finally he said:
“See here, Margot, I think I’ll have to change my system.”
“Why, what’s the matter with it?”
“Well ... you see I have to walk about so much between the tables. It tires me out.”
“I thought you didn’t like to ‘win too easily’?”
“Oh, I don’t mind not winning easily.”
“Ah! you’ve been losing.”
“No, I haven’t. My capital’s intact and I have five hundred francs of gain. But ... well, I’m tired of it. I want a change.”
“What are you going to try now?”
“I call it a pattern system. You see I set the bank a task....”
“Look here then. Look at this diagram.”
“These figures represent the dozens arranged in three columns. They form a certain pattern, a pattern of seven. Now I sit comfortably at a table (no more walking for me), and take down numbers, arranging both the dozens and columns in three rows. When my figures begin to accumulate, I look back to see if I cannot find a coincidence between the pattern I am making, and the one that has gone before. When I find this, and the pattern duplicates as far as the sixth figure I simply bet that it won’t go as far as the seventh. That is to say, suppose I get a second set of figures similar to those I have set down here as far as the sixth, I simply bet against the repetition of the last. Am I clear?”
“Not very,—but I understand.”
“What do you think of it?”
“Fantastic.”
“Not at all. I am defying the bank to repeat the same combination of dozens or columns in a comparatively short space of time. The odds are overwhelmingly in my favour. You see in this game one has certain advantages over the bank. One can choose one’s moment to enter, and one can retire when one wants. Also one can make a progression.”
“Are you making one?”
“Yes, I begin by putting a hundred francs between the two dozens on which I am betting. If that should fail, I will increase to three hundred francs, and then if necessary to a thousand. In the first two cases I win fifty francs, in the third a hundred. I would always bet, of course, against the corresponding dozen or column of the combination I am following. In short, to finally beat me the bank needs to produce a coincidence of nine. That, you must admit, is extraordinary.”
“It is a game of the devil. Anything may happen.”
“Well, I’m going to get four wins a day. That will mean two hundred francs. At that rate in about ten days I will have your two thousand francs, and you can go back to Paris and start your little shop.”
“You seem in a hurry to get rid of me.”
“No, it’s not that.... But you know we can’t go on like this indefinitely. It would look queer. I have to think of your reputation.”
“Don’t bother about my reputation. As for your own, and the opinion of your friends ... well, I am very discreet, am I not? We never go out together.”
“No, no one need ever know. And after all we have nothing to reproach ourselves with. We’re playing the game like two good pals. Our consciences are clear.”
He let the matter drop there; but the question of Margot’s future worried him. He knew he would always be interested in her, and that it would hurt him if any ill befell her; he was beginning to think of her as if she were really his sister.
Hugh found his new system absorbing, but very fatiguing. Looking back through rows of figures for coinciding groups was something of a mental strain. When, however, his opportunity came to play, he did so with calm certitude. In no instance was he beaten. It seemed as if the powers of correspondence exhausted themselves after the sixth term.
Sitting snugly at one of the tables with pencil and note-book, he would lose all sense of his surroundings. He was alone with the wheel; the rest was a dream. Vaguely he was aware of players reaching over his shoulders, and of the monotonous voices of bored croupiers. Sometimes a dispute would arouse him from his distraction and amuse him a little; but though he often could have settled it, he never “butted in.” It was none of his business. Also he never handed any one their winnings. The one time when he had done so he had handed to the wrong person. Fortunately it had been only a question of ten francs and the bank had promptly paid a second time. After that, however, when people asked him to pass money he gave them a rake and let them get it for themselves.
During the long hours at the table Hugh entered into conversation with his various neighbours, and made many of these gambling acquaintances so easily made, so easily unmade. Roulette is a destroyer of reserve; its courtesies mean nothing, and people who chat at the table, when they meet afterwards on the terrace, stare frigidly.
Of these acquaintances the only one with whom he became in any way friendly was a one-legged Irishman with red hair, Major Fitzoswald. He played a dashing game, always building around the number thirty-two. When he won he won heavily; but more often he lost. He had a jolly little wife and four children, ranging from a baby to a girl of seven; and when he had finished gambling in the afternoon, he would hobble out of the Casino on his crutches and join them in the sand pit near the dove-cot. It was said that he had lost his leg in a glorious action on the Somme front.
One day Hugh was amazed to see Mr. Gimp actually playing. The little man was standing erect and business-like at the trente-et-quarante table opposite the American millionairess. She had a tiny mannikin in front of her as a mascot. On one finger was an immense diamond, and around her neck glimmered a double string of superb pearls. Her blonde beauty suggested pearls; and her wide-set blue eyes, mobile mouth and very strong white teeth made her look like a happy child. Every time she played Mr. Gimp would play on the opposite chance. But while the honey-coloured beauty threw on heaps of placques, now rising to rose, now dropping to azure, Mr. Gimp played only a modest louis. Behind his hand he whispered to Hugh:
“This is the best system of all. It’s known as ‘playing the corpse.’ You get opposite a big player and play the contrary. When they have to make a progression, you win on all its terms. It goes without saying they’re dead ones from the start. The Casino will get their money. You’re playing on the side of the Casino, that’s all. And while the Casino is taking big risks, you are taking small ones. ‘Playing the corpse,’—it’s the only sure system I know. It’s a shame to take the money. You know I hate gambling like hell; but if there’s easy money lying round a man’s a damn fool if he don’t pick it up.”
When Hugh returned late in the afternoon the beautiful American was still playing, and opposite her, methodically putting on his single louis, was the pertinacious Mr. Gimp.
One day Hugh arrived home for luncheon looking exultantly happy. The table was neatly set, and the girl was in the little cabinet where she cooked.
“Hurrah! Margot. I’ve got something for you.”
“I can’t come for a minute. I’m cooking two soles I bought in the market. I saw you coming, so I put them on.”
“All right. How jolly the place looks. How nice you keep everything. We’ll both be sorry to leave it.”
The girl turned suddenly. Her voice trembled.
“Leave it! Why?”
“Hang it, one can’t stay here always. I’m feeling stronger than ever I did in my life. I want to get out and do things. And you?”
“I’ve never been so happy as I’ve been here.”
“I really believe I can say the same. It’s been awfully jolly. What a pity all pleasant things must end! We both have the future to face. But I’ll take care you have your share of happiness. That’s why I’m giving you this....”
“What is it?”
“Look out. The fish is burning. Finish frying and you’ll see.”
He threw an envelope on her plate, and she went back to the little gas-stove. He watched her with pleasure. She was so slim and trim in her pink apron, with her hair massed in shining coils round her head. She had so much of it that she scarcely knew what to do with it. He liked her eyes, too. They were a brave, sympathetic blue. Her face was English in its open frankness. It was wonderful how she had changed. A softness had replaced her sharp lines and the hollows had become curves. Her mouth had lost its hopeless look, and was now tenderly sweet.... He almost regretted what he was going to do. Well, she would always be his little sister; he would never lose sight of her.
She brought the fish and potatoes, and sat down. As she took up the envelope he watched her eagerly. She opened it and drew out two crisp bills for a thousand francs each. Her face grew pale.
“What’s this?” she faltered.
“It’s yours,” he exulted. “I had a splendid morning. Got two hundred francs ever so easily. Now that I’ve made up the sum you need, you can start for Paris to-morrow if you like.”
She pushed the money away from her.
“I don’t want it. It’s yours. I can’t take it.”
“What? Why, I won it for you! It was for you I gambled; for you I risked my capital. It’s given me the rarest pleasure doing this for you; now you mustn’t spoil all by refusing.”
“But I do refuse,” she cried fiercely. “It’s your money. How can I take it?”
“Oh, rot! You’ll make me cross in a minute. Granted it was an absurd idea on my part to make the Casino pay you back this money, what else was there to do? I couldn’t leave you in the hole. I had to do something for you. This way appealed to me as being both original and amusing. Come now ... if you like, consider it a loan, you can pay me back some day. There! It’s the solution of all your difficulties. It will establish you,—perhaps be the beginning of a modest fortune. Think of that bright little bonnet-shop on the Boulevard du Montparnasse. How happy you’ll be there. And I’ll come and see you....”
“If I take it as a loan, will you stop gambling?”
“Oh, come now, that’s absurd. Why should I? It really amuses me very much and I’m sure to win. The Casino owes me a living. It’s like a bank from which I draw a little every day. It would be a shame to stop.”
“You’re like all the rest. I’ve seen it coming over you for some time. You’re getting to think of nothing but roulette. You used to go for long walks, spend your time in the open air; now you’re either in the Rooms or working over permanencies. In the end you’ll lose everything.”
“Nonsense. I tell you I understand the game now. I can get my living at it. It only needs prudence, patience, judgment. A man can start with five francs and win a fortune. The great mass of the people are fools. They play anyhow. But I tell you it takes brains to play that game. There are the laws of chance, the calculation of probabilities.... Oh, I know I can win. I tell you, I can win....”
“I’ve heard the others say that,” she answered scornfully. “Once I thought the same. It’s all an illusion. In the end it’s ruin.”
“All right. You won’t take that money?”
“No.”
He was angry. He wanted to shake her. The air was charged with hostility. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve made me feel like a fool.” Rising he left the house. The two little crisp soles remained untasted on their plates.