CHAPTER NINE
THE PROFESSOR BEGINS
THE professor advanced with an impressive dignity. Even the two blue-coated attendants who guarded the middle portal stared and gaped. They were used to strange figures, but never had they seen a stranger.
The professor wore a black frock-coat of a bygone day. He carried a brigandish hat in one hand, and a cane with an ebony knob in the other. His silvery hair coiled over his shoulders; his deep, broad beard was patriarchal; he walked with a slow, deliberate step. Every one turned to look at him as he passed.
“It’s Father Christmas,” said a man, and everybody tittered. The name stuck.
But the professor paid no attention to them. He seemed to know just what he wanted to do. He went straight to the table favoured by the system-player, the one next the “Opium Dream Room”, and handed five francs to the sour old lady who takes down the numbers for the Monte Carlo Revue. Promptly she gave him her place.
“Come,” said Hugh to Mr. Gimp, “I know the old chap. He’s queer. Let’s watch him.”
Others too were hastening to watch, and expectancy was in the air. The professor seemed entirely unconscious of the interest he aroused. He carefully installed himself, then took from an inner pocket a long red note-book and a pencil. He asked the old lady to show him her numbers, and copied down the last dozen. Then taking out thirty thousand francs in bills he demanded counters. There was something so elaborately pretentious in these preparations that even the croupiers looked at one another, though they did not lose their contemptuous smiles.
The professor peered through his silver rimmed spectacles at the numbers and sat for awhile, taking down the fresh ones as they occurred, and consulting carefully his long red note-book. Finally he stood up with an air of decision, and put the maximum on thirty-two in every possible way,—en plein, chevals, carrés, transversals, dozens columns, simple chances. When he had finished he had on the table about twenty-five thousand francs. Even the croupiers stared. A thrill of excitement ran through the circle of watchers, but the least moved was the old man. He leaned back and waited with calm confidence for the spin. It came. It was the number thirty-four. He had lost.
Not all, though. It is true he had missed the number, but he had got the three simple chances, the dozen, a transversal double, a carée. He had won about ten thousand francs.
The croupiers shrugged their shoulders. People looked at each other with eyes that said, “Fool’s luck!” The professor again consulted his notes. He seemed a little nonplussed. He allowed three coups to go by without playing, then on the fourth he rose again and built his maximums about the thirty-two.
The croupiers seemed now to realize the dramatic value of the situation. The spinner turned the wheel solemnly as if it were a sacred rite; there was a tense moment, then a thrill ran through the crowd. In a voice that trembled with chagrin the croupier called out:
“Trente deux, rouge pair et passe.”
The old man had won. They paid him carefully and ostentatiously. He gathered the notes in a worn leather wallet, put his note-book and pencil back into his inner pocket, rose and went away. A crowd followed him to the door; inspectors gathered in groups and talked; directors looked down from upper windows. Never had there been such a sensational début.
“It’s fantastic,” said Hugh. “What with my own luck and the professor’s you could bowl me over with a feather. I want to indulge in hysterical laughter.”
“Better indulge in a brandy and soda,” said Mr. Gimp. “I’ll see you home after.”
Hugh found Margot embroidering a piece of white silk. He marvelled at the delicate patience of her fingers.
“How jolly nice. What’s it for?”
“A blouse.”
“Good. You’ll look ripping in that.”
“You think so?... but it’s not for me.”
“Not for you!”
“No, you see, I’ve got some sewing to do. I might as well. I have many spare hours each day. I am trying to make a little money. It’s that nice lingerie shop near the Hotel de Paris.”
“Good Heavens! And how much can you make at that?”
“The deuce! What would you say if I told you that to-day I had made fifty thousand?”
“You didn’t....”
“I did. It’s true I lost some of it afterwards. Ah! if I’d only stopped in time. But I hung on to thirty thousand.”
Eagerly he took out his sheaf of bills, and spread them before her.
“There! I’ve fifty-five thousand, only five short of the sixty.”
She looked frightened. She laid her hand on his.
“You’ll stop now. Please say you’ll stop.”
“No, I want sixty.”
She was silent, staring with troubled eyes before her, her embroidery in her lap.
“Wake up,” he laughed. “You’re in a trance. What are you thinking of,—your dowry?”
“No, of that rose-covered cottage.”
“Oh, that.... I say, you’re not going on with that embroidery for the sake of making a measly five francs a day?”
“Why not? It’s clean money.”
“Don’t you think this money is clean?”
“No, I might have thought so once; but now ... I’ve had my lesson.”
“I haven’t. It’s good enough for me. Why, it would take me twenty years to save this money in the usual way, and make a wreck of me at the same time. Life’s too hard a battle. We can’t afford to choose our weapons.”
A knock came at the door. It was Professor Durand. The old man had doffed his dignity, and was in slippers and a dressing-gown. He bowed profoundly to Margot, then he said to Hugh with a benevolent smile:
“I saw a light and thought you might have returned. I am lonely. I wonder if you would care to come to my den and smoke a pipe.”
Hugh followed the old man. The room surprised him. There was a steel safe in one corner, a large cabinet, a broad table covered with papers on which were algebraic formulæ and geometrical figures.
“My workshop,” said the professor. “You saw me to-day? Eh, what!”
“Yes, I congratulate you. You made a wonderful beginning.”
“No, I’m not satisfied. My timing was out. To-morrow I’ll do better. I’ll only play once, but I’ll hit it.”
The professor spoke with such conviction that Hugh was impressed.
“Extraordinary! A marvellous system. A discovery.”
“No, not a discovery, an invention. Just as logarithms was an invention. But remember, it took me twenty years to perfect it with all the resources of the higher mathematics at my command. Twenty years! Come, take that easy chair and light up. I’m going to give you a liqueur, some very old Chartreuse; and we’ll talk.”
The professor, however, did most of the talking. “Look,” said he, “at that stack of green volumes. You have there the records of table number two for the past thirteen years. I know that table like a living thing, and yet I never saw it until to-day.”
“I suppose,” said Hugh, “that you base your system on the law of average?”
The professor laughed tolerantly. “No, I don’t. Law of average,—that is child’s talk to me. Of course every table has its average, every wheel has its average, every croupier, you, I; every coup that is played, is an average with something that has gone before. Ah! these foolish system-players with their talk of average and probability and phenomenon. Why, every coup is a phenomenon as regards something that has gone before. These things don’t exist. They are sounding terms that mean nothing. No, the trouble is that all these students of the laws of chance go about it wrongly. Their systems are analytic, mine is synthetic.”
“Do you claim that it is infallible?”
“By no means. You saw me fail to-day. What I do claim is that I will succeed one time out of three.”
“That’s good enough.”
“Good enough to ruin the bank. I won’t stop till I have taken a hundred millions from them. Don’t think I want the money. I won’t touch one sou of it.”
“What will you do with it?”
“I am a patriot. My country is in trouble, in debt. I will give it all to my country.”
“But why do you hate the Casino? Is it revenge?”
“No, retribution. My only son came here, played, lost all ... he’s dead. Now you know the brutal truth. I did not intend to tell any one. It’s painful even after twenty years....”
“I understand....”
“Well, you’ll see me play to-morrow. I’ll take my seat at three o’clock sharp.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I have them in the hollow of my hand. They don’t suspect, they don’t dream. But to-morrow they will begin to be uneasy, and as I close my hand to crush them they will be seized with panic, they will be filled with despair. That will be the time I shall need some one to aid me, to protect me, for I am old. I want a young man full of intelligence, of courage, to guard me, and if need be, to carry on my work. For instance,—you! Now do you understand why I have asked you here to-night, why I have told you all I have?... We’ll talk again of this.”
It was late when Hugh left the old man and returned to his room. Margot was still bent over her embroidery.
“You’ll hurt your eyes,” he remonstrated; but she shook her head obstinately.
“No, I won’t stop. I promised madame I’d finish this for to-morrow.”
When he arrived at the Casino the following afternoon, he saw a crowd collected under the great rubber tree on the edge of the “Cheese.” To his amazement he found that it was gathered around Mrs. Fitzoswald and her little brood. He heard exclamations such as: “The poor dears! What a shame! Such a plucky little woman!”
Mrs. Fitz was excited. The light of battle was in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed. She proclaimed her wrongs to the skies.
“Yes,” she cried, pointing to the Casino, “they ruined him, the dirty rascals. They got all his money and now they’ve thrown him into prison. A mutilé of the war; a man who has given his leg for freedom, thrown into prison like a criminal. But I’ll have justice. I’ll stand here till they release him. Look at his innocent children, without food, without shelter.”
At this the three little girls, aged seven, five and three, began to weep and cling to her. Only the baby in the arms of June Emslie was unmoved, laughing and chuckling at the world.
June explained to Hugh what the trouble was. Major Fitzoswald, it seemed, was expecting money from England and had issued a cheque against it for the rent of his apartment. Unfortunately the money was delayed and the cheque was refused. The landlord appealed to the authorities, who decided to make an example of the major. There had been similar cases and they felt that the citizens must be protected. So two very gorgeous gendarmes had driven Major Fitzoswald to the Rock of Monaco and presumably thrown him into its deepest dungeon. Meanwhile the landlord had put his wife and children on the street.
The English and American colony had been scandalized; it was equivalent to a national insult. They had offered to pay the amount of the cheque ten times over, but the authorities were adamant.
“No,” they had said pompously; “the law must take its course.”
Both the English and American Consuls had been appealed to and had done their best to get the Major released but without result. Public opinion was aroused; prominent men had interviewed the administration, but all to no purpose. The one-legged Major continued to languish in his cell.
Then it was that Mrs. Fitz had come into action and, planting herself with her brood in front of the grand entrance, she cried her woes to the world. A sympathetic crowd gathered, black looks were thrown at the temple of chance, and its all-powerful administration were objurgated. Every one was competing to aid the unfortunate victims. Hugh saw Mr. Fetterstein, the multi-millionaire, descend the steps of the Hotel de Paris, and, to the scandal of the flunkeys, take back with him the whole bedraggled family for luncheon.
As Hugh entered the Casino he found Mr. Gimp in his usual place between the two pillars at the entrance of the atrium.
“Darned shame,” said Mr. Gimp. “Darned fine little woman. Nice kids. I took ’em all to Quinto’s for dinner last night. The whole thing’s a mistake. The Major’s a gallant gentleman, but that bunch of Dago scalawags that run this place are down on British and Americans. They like our money, but that’s all. There’s no law. The Casino gang runs the government. The whole population live on the Casino like lice on a shark. The Prince with his tin-pot army is in their pay. It’s mediæval, fantastic, rotten. And you ask me, then, why do I stay here? I can’t tell you. I just stay.”
Mr. Gimp inhaled his home-made cigarette and snorted out a cloud of disgust.
“Say, I heard a good story of this place! A guy once committed a crime. They ought to have guillotined him; but as they didn’t have a guillotine, they decided to imprison him for life. They threw him into a cell, but soon it became such a nuisance to cook his food, that they transferred him to a small hut near the frontier, hoping he would escape. They had his meals sent in to him from a neighbouring restaurant. But when the bills came in, they drew a long face. He cost some, this prisoner. They decided to pardon him, but he consulted a lawyer, and found that his pardon was irregular. He refused to accept it. Finally to get rid of him they had to pay him a big sum to escape. That’s a sample of how things are run here.... Look, there’s your friend the professor.”
The sensation in Casino circles caused by Mrs. Fitzoswald was as nothing compared to the excitement aroused by the second appearance of the professor. The news ran like an electric thrill from one end of the Rooms to the other. It communicated itself to the stolid blue-coated lackeys; to the wary, black-coated officials with their tiny cards, even to the callous croupiers themselves.
The professor stumped across the room leaning on his cane; the old lady gave him her place as before. Every one made way for him. He was the star player. Again he went through the same programme with note-book and pencil. He consulted the previous numbers and quickly came to a decision. But instead of buying chips as formerly, he handed the croupier the exact sum to play his series of maximums. Then he announced his number,—Five.
It took some time to place the money correctly. The croupier did so with unction. His actions had all the solemnity of a ceremonial. Finally every stake was correctly placed. Excitement held the crowd spellbound. With a determination at all cost to avoid the five, the spinner threw the ball. It whirled around smoothly, then dropped amid the diamond-shaped studs, dodged, rebounded, zig-zagged, fell. A great shout arose. A sullen voice announced: “Cinq, rouge impair et manque.”
Again the professor took up his gains and stumped his way through the admiring crowd. Once more he had gained over sixty thousand francs.
On the following day he made his appearance a little after noon; the Rooms were at their quietest. On this occasion he seemed less sanguine of success. He made two shots but in neither case did he strike the number. However, his gains on his indirect stakes balanced his losses, and he rose from the table in a few minutes neither richer nor poorer. The Casino people breathed more freely. They had been puzzled and a little worried. They transferred their attention to the other and equally pressing problems.
As time went on, more and more of the false chips were being forced on the bank. Hugh felt the atmosphere of suspicion daily increasing in intensity. Black-coated inspectors and spies were everywhere. No one’s affairs were private. The secret police were making desperate efforts to discover the fabricators of the false counters, but their efforts so far had resulted only in the conviction of a croupier for petty pilfering. He had done it by pretending to scratch his neck, and, in so doing, dropping a louis down his collar. They did not put him in prison, but hung a placard around his neck with I AM A THIEF printed on it, and marched him around Monaco before his friends and relations. Finally they kicked him across the frontier.
Mrs. Fitzoswald, too, was giving them no small worry. The little woman was conducting her campaign with skill and tenacity. She was to be seen at all hours of the day in front of the Casino, relating her misfortunes to a sympathizing audience. Her children with tear-stained cheeks ably supported her. People felt that it was unfair to have their feelings harrowed when they came to enjoy themselves. Complaint after complaint reached the administration, which at last decided to take action. They offered to pay her passage and that of her children to England if she would go away at once.
“What, go without my husband! Never! Release him and pay his passage, too. That’s my ultimatum.”
The authorities refused. Negotiations were broken off.
On the fourth day the professor again made his appearance in the afternoon; and again repeated his performance of the second day. The directors were in a state of consternation. For the first time they began to think that here was that inconceivable thing, a man with an invincible system. All Monte Carlo was talking of it. They awaited events with the greatest anxiety.