as a bank-teller.There were eighty-three, each for one hundred francs.
For an instant he paused. Already the ball was on its way. His keeneyes, gleaming with an unnatural fire, took in the table at a glance;then withdrawing twenty-three of the notes, he screwed up the remainderinto a bundle and tossed it upon the scarlet diamond.
"Good heavens!" Zertho gasped. "Are you mad, Brooker?"
But the Captain paid no heed. His blotchy countenance, a trifle paler,was as impassive as before, although he had staked six thousand francs,the maximum allowed upon the simple chance.
"_Rien ne va plus_!" cried the croupier once more, and those crowdingaround the table, witnessing the heavy stake, glanced quickly at thereckless gamester, then craned their necks to watch the tiny ball.
Slowly, very slowly, it lost its impetus. The breathless seconds seemedhours. All were on tiptoe of expectation, the least moved being the mansitting with his chin resting upon his hand, his eyes fixed thoughtfullyupon the table before him; the man who had spent whole years of his lifeamid that terrible whirl of frenzied greed and forlorn hope. Even thecroupiers, whose dark, impassive faces and white shirt-fronts hadhaunted so many of the ruined ones, bent to watch the progress of theball.
Zertho, in his eagerness, rose from his chair to obtain a better view.
Whirr-r. Click! It fell at last, and scarcely had it touched thenumber when the croupier's voice clearly and distinctly announced thatthe red had gained. Then the crowd breathed once more.
Brooker raised his head in the direction of the croupier, and a slightsmile played about the corners of his hard-set mouth. A moment latersix notes for a thousand francs each were handed to him at the end ofthe rake, while Zertho drew in the big bundle of small notes hiscompanion had staked. Brooker had re-won all the winnings he had lost.
He toyed with the bundle of sixty notes which Zertho handed to him untilthe ball was again set spinning, when, as if with sudden resolution, hetossed them once more upon the same spot.
A silent breathlessness followed, while he remained still motionless,his chin sunk upon his breast. It was a reckless game he was playing,and none knew it better than himself. Yet somehow that afternoon adesperate frenzy had seized him, and having won, he played boldly, withthe certain knowledge that the bad luck which had hitherto followed himhad at last changed.
Again the disc, revolving in the opposite direction, sent the ballhopping about as it struck it. Once more it fell.
The red again won, and he added six additional notes to the six alreadyin his hand.
"_Messieurs, faites vos jeux_!"
A third time was the game made, a third time he held in his hand inindecision that bundle of notes, and a third time he tossed them uponthe scarlet diamond.
In an instant gold and notes were showered upon them from every handuntil they formed a formidable pile. The other players crowding around,seeing his returning run of luck, once more followed his game.
A third time was the ball projected around the edge of the disc,followed eagerly in its course by two hundred eyes; a third time thecroupier's voice was raised in warning that no more money was to beplaced upon the table, and a third time the ivory dropped with a suddenclick upon the red.
A third time came the six thousand francs handed upon the end of thecroupier's rake.
Brooker, taking the bundle of small notes and thrusting them alltogether in his pocket, rose at once from the table with a smile atthose opposite him, the richer by a thousand pounds.
"Marvellous!" cried Zertho, as they moved away together across thepolished floor. "What a run you've had! Surely Liane can't be angrynow. Let's go into the gardens; she's certain to be awaiting us there."
And together they went to the cloakroom for their hats; then passed outdown the broad carpeted steps into the pretty place, where the shadowswere lengthening. The Monegasques and visitors were promenading in thegardens; the orchestra before the crowded Cafe de Paris, with itsstriped sun-blinds, was playing an overture of Mascagni's; and the cool,bright, flower-scented air was refreshing after the heat and excitementof the crowded rooms.
"At last!" Brooker exclaimed, as they descended the steps to seekLiane. "At last my luck has changed!"
CHAPTER TWELVE.
LIANE'S SECRET.
When Liane had left the two men she first obtained her sunshade, then,descending the steps, walked slowly beneath the shadows round to thefront of the Casino and out upon the beautiful broad terrace, flanked bypalms, aloes and flowers, which faced the sea. There were but fewpromenaders, for the sun was still warm, and most of the people wereinside tempting Fortune.
With her white sunshade above her head she leaned upon the stonebalustrade, her clear eyes fixed in deep thought upon the wide expanseof blue sky and bluer sea. On the terrace below, where apigeon-shooting match was in progress, the crack of a gun was heard atintervals, while pacing the gravelled walk near her was one of theCasino attendants with the curious closely-fitting coat and conspicuousbroad striped belt of red and blue. The duty of these men is somewhatunique. They watch the loungers narrowly, and if they appear plunged indespair they eject them from the gardens lest they should commitsuicide.
The soft breeze from the sea fanned her face refreshingly after thecloseness of those crowded rooms, where the sun's brightness wasexcluded, and the light of the glorious day subdued. She was annoyed atZertho's action in inciting her father by winning the paltry couple oflouis, more than at the Captain for his want of self-control. She stoodthere thinking, a tall lithe figure in white girdled with violet,refined, exquisite, dainty from the gilt ferrule of her sunshade to thetip of her tiny white kid shoe. She reflected what terrible fascinationthe tables possessed for her father, and was half inclined to forgivehim, knowing how irresistible was the temptation to play amid thataccumulation of all the caprices, of all the fantasies, of all theeccentricities, of all the idleness, of all the ambitious and all theindiscretions. But Zertho's contemptuous smile had added to hervexation and displeasure.
Her father had commenced playing, and she dreaded the consequences,knowing with what dogged persistency he would stake his last louis onthe chance of regaining his losses, heedless of the fact that for eachcoin lost they would be deprived of the comforts of life to that amount.She reproached herself for consenting to accompany them, but as shepondered her anger soon turned to poignant sorrow. She had believedthat her father, hard hit as he had been, had relinquished all thoughtof play. Time after time he had assured her that he had renouncedroulette for ever, yet now on the first occasion he had revisited thescene of his old triumphs and defeats, all his good resolutions hadcrumbled away, and he had tossed his money into the insatiable maw ofthe bank as recklessly as he had ever done. She sighed as she thoughtof it, and bitter tears dimmed her vision. By her own influence shecould have taken him away; it was, she knew, the fear of Zertho'sderision that caused him to fling those notes so defiantly upon thetable.
With that picturesque, well-remembered landscape of rugged mountainheights, olive-clad slopes, and calm sea, memories sad and bittercontinued to crowd upon her. This place, among the fairest on earth,was to her the most hateful and loathsome. With it were associated allthe evil days which had passed so drearily; all the poverty which hadkept her and her dead companion shabby and heavy-hearted; all the monthsof anxiety and weariness in days when their rooms were poorly furnishedand the next meal had been an event of uncertainty. A few months oflife at a good hotel, amid congenial society, would always be followedby many months of residence high up in some back street, where the noisewas eternal, where the screaming of loud-voiced Frenchwomen soundedabove and below, where clothes were hung upon the drab jalousies to airin the sun, and where the smell of garlic came in at the windows. Insuch a life the quiet English homeliness of Stratfield Mortimer had comeas a welcome rest. She had loved their quaint old ivied cottage, andhad fondly believed they would remain there always, happy and contented.But, alas! Nelly's tragic end had changed it all
.
Zertho, her reckless but animated companion of the old days, was backagain with them, and once more they were upon the very spot that she hadvowed so often she would never again revisit.
These reflections brought with them thoughts of Nelly. She recollectedhow, often and often, they would stroll together along that terracewhile Zertho and her father sat hour after hour at the tables,regardless of meal-times, and how sometimes, hungry and having no money,they would go in and obtain from one or other of the men a ten-francpiece with which to get their dinner at the cheap little restaurant theyknew of down in La Condamine. It was upon that very gravelled walk,with its inviting seats, high palms, and banks of flowers, that they hadone afternoon passed a tall, good-looking young Englishman not mucholder than themselves. He had smiled at them, and they, alwaysdelighted at the chance of an innocent flirtation, had laughed inreturn. He had then raised his hat, spoken to them, and