louis in addition.
The sight of Zertho winning stirred Erle Brooker's blood. He hadwatched the run of the table sufficiently to know from experience thatthe chances were again in favour of the red, and with quick resolve hethrew upon the scarlet diamond two notes for one hundred francs apiece.
Liane made a sudden movement to stay his hand, but too late. Then, withlips compressed she looked at him with bitter reproach, but uttered noword. The little ivory ball had already been launched on it way.
"_Rien ne va plus_!" cried the croupier an instant later, and the ballnext second clicked into its socket.
Red won. The croupier tossed over to him two notes of the same value asthose he had staked, and he took them up with an amused smile at hiscompanions.
"Really, dad," cried Liane, pouting prettily, "it is too bad of you tobreak your promise. I only came with you on one condition, namely, thatyou wouldn't play."
"Well, I've won ten louis, so no great harm has been done," he answered.
"But there is harm," she protested firmly. "When once you come to thetables you cannot, you know, leave until you've won, or lost everything.I thought you had, for my sake, given it up."
They had drawn aside from the table, and were standing in the middle ofthe handsome room.
"This is only in fun, Liane," Zertho assured her. "We are neither of usany longer professionals. Our day is over."
"It is certainly not kind of you to invite my father to play like this,"she exclaimed, turning upon him resentfully. "I have already told youthat I do not wish him to play."
"I have not invited him," Zertho declared with a laugh. "If he choosesto follow the run I cannot well prevent it."
At that moment Brooker, who still kept his keen eyes riveted upon thetable, heard the croupier's voice, hesitated a moment, and taking tworapid steps forward tossed upon the red diamond the four notes he hadjust picked up.
Whirr-r! click! went the ball again, and the croupier's announcement afew seconds later told him that he had won four hundred francs.
Liane, annoyed, flushed slightly, compressed her lips and turning fromthem with a gesture of anger walked straight out from the great gildedsalons so hateful to her. As she passed, many turned and remarked howbeautiful she was. She knew that the mania which had caused herfather's downfall had returned, that this double success would cause himto plunge still more deeply. Zertho smiled contemptuously at her fears,and neither men went after her to induce her to return.
The Prince, on the contrary, shrugged his shoulders, and laughingsaid,--
"She's annoyed. She'll return in a minute or two, when she knows you'vewon. Now that she's gone I'm going to risk a little myself."
At that moment two players rose from their chairs, and the pair sowell-known to the croupiers and attendants "marked" their places. Theman sitting before the red and black disc which slowly revolved whilethe players laid down their coin, gave both men a little nod ofrecognition.
"_Messieurs, faites vos jeux_," cried the croupier.
"What's your fancy? The impair?" Zertho inquired of his companion inthe same tone as was his wont long ago.
"Of course," the other replied, selecting at the same moment three notesfrom those in his hand, and tossing them over upon the marked squareindicated.
Once more sounded the monotonous cry, "_Rien ne va plus_!" The croupiersat immovable as one joyless, hopeless, and impassionate, a veritablemachine raking in and paying out gold and silver and notes withoutcaring one jot whether the bank gained or lost. The ball was an instantlater sent on its way, and Brooker watching, saw it suddenly springabout and fall.
Again he won.
With one elbow resting upon the table he gathered up his winnings withthat impassive manner which marks the professional gamester as oneapart. Whether he gained or lost Erle Brooker never made sign, exceptsometimes when he lost more heavily than usual he would perhaps smile atrifle bitterly. Already the furrows were showing in his brow, and hisdeep-set eyes watched keenly the run of the game as time after time hewould hesitate, apparently reflecting, until the ball was already inmotion, and then toss his notes into the "manque" or "passe," the firstbeing the numbers 1 to 18, and the latter 19 to 36, or place them uponthe lines of the various numbered squares, whichever he deemed wisestfor the composite chances of a "sixain," a "carre," a "douzaine," or a"colonne." Heedless of all around him, heedless of his old partner athis side, the man who had once shared his losses and his winnings,heedless of the pale delicate girl who was wandering about alonesomewhere outside, fearing lest he should lose the whole of the littlemoney they now had, he won and won, and still won.
Sometimes he lost. Twice in succession the bank gained six hundredfrancs of his winnings; still nothing daunted, he continued, and foundthat the knowledge he had gained of the game proved true, for he wonagain and again, although sometimes doubling and even trebling hisstake.
The crowd of eager ones around the table now began to wait until heselected the place whereon he should put down his stake, and commencedto follow his play narrowly, playing when he played, and refraining whenhe held back.
Zertho noticed this and whispered: "Your luck's changed, old chap. Whynot try bigger stakes?"
"I know what I'm about," the other snapped viciously, pulling towardshim a dozen notes from the "passe" opposite. "If you won't playyourself keep count for me, and see that I get fully paid."
Zertho well knew that his old partner had now become oblivious toeverything. His mouth was hard-set, his eyes gleamed with a fierceexcitement he strove to suppress, and great beads of perspiration stoodupon his heavily-lined brow. A lady standing behind him, a touristevidently, reached over his head to stake her modest five-franc piece onthe red, whereupon he turned, and muttering something uncomplimentaryregarding "those women who ought to play for sous," withered her with alook.
Somebody had handed Zertho one of the cards printed with parallelcolumns under the letters "N" and "R," with a pencil wherewith to keepcount. He glanced up, and noticing all eyes directed upon them,suddenly reflected that if any person came up who knew him as PrinceZertho d'Auzac it would scarcely be dignified to be discovered countingthe gains and acting as clerk to a professional gamester.
But Brooker wanted money badly, and was winning; therefore he could notdisturb him. Both men were gamblers at heart, and the one feared tomove just as much as the other, lest the spell should be broken and theluck change.
The good fortune attending the Captain's play seemed to the onlookerslittle short of marvellous. With apparent unconcern he flung down hisnotes, sometimes six or ten twisted carelessly together, and each timethere came back towards him upon the point of the croupier's rake hisown notes with a similar number of others.
Suddenly, having thrown four notes upon the "manque," he rested his hotwhirling brow upon his hand. The ball clicked into its little numberedpartition, the croupier announced that the number 20 had gained, and heknew he had lost. The excited crowd sitting and standing around thetable exchanged smiles and glances, and at that moment the croupierschanged.
Again the game was made, and the man upon whom everyone's eyes wereturned threw five hundred francs upon the simple chance of the red.Black again won.
Once more he threw a similar sum upon the red. A third time black won.He had lost fourteen hundred francs in three spins of the wheel!
It seemed that his luck had suddenly departed. It is often remarked byprofessional gamesters that luck departs from the fortunate when thecroupiers are changed.
But the passion was now full upon him. His face was rigid; his mouthtightly closed. He had spoken no word to Zertho, and had seemed hardlyto notice how much his companion had been gathering into his hands, orto take the trouble to glance at the revolving roulette. The croupier'svoice was, for him, sufficient.
Now, each time that the tiny ball dropped into its socket he knew thatits click cost him four hundred francs. Time after time he lost, andthose who, half-an-hour before, had been
carefully following his playand winning heavily thereby, began to forsake him and trust in their owndiscretion. In eighteen games only twice the red turned up, still withthe dogged pertinacity of the gamester he pinned his faith to the colourupon which he had had his run of luck, and continued to stake his notesin the expectation that the black must lose.
"You're getting reckless," Zertho whispered. "This isn't like you, oldfellow."
But his companion turned from him with angry gesture, and flung on hismoney as before.
At that moment red won. The colour had changed. From Zertho's hand hetook the bundle of notes, still formidable, although his losses had beenso heavy, and counted them as quickly and accurately