Chapter Eighteen
_The Spider's Web_
Only the select attended the meetings at Fernand's. It was doubly hardto choose them. They had to have enough money to afford high play, andthey also had to lose without a murmur. It made it extremely difficultto build up a clientele, but Fernand was equal to the task. He seemed tosmell out the character of a man or woman, to know at once how much ironwas in their souls. And, following the course of an evening's play,Fernand knew the exact moment at which a man had had enough. It wasnever twice the same for the same man. A rich fellow, who lost twentythousand one day and laughed at it, might groan and curse if he losttwenty hundred a week later.
It was Fernand's desire to keep those groans and curses from being heardin his gaming house. He extracted wallets painlessly, so to speak.
He was never crooked; and yet he would not have a dealer in his employunless the fellow knew every good trick of running up the deck. Thereason was that, while Fernand never cheated in order to take money awayfrom his customers, he very, very frequently had his men cheat in orderto give money away.
This sounds like a mad procedure for the proprietor of a gaming house,but there were profound reasons beneath it. For one of the maxims ofFernand--and, like every gambler, he had many of them--was that the bestway to make a man lose money is first of all to make him win it.
Such was Monsieur Frederic Fernand. And, if many compared him toFalstaff, and many pitied the merry, fat old man for having fallen intoso hard a profession, yet there were a few who called him a bloatedspider, holding his victims, with invisible cords, and bleeding themslowly to death.
To help him he had selected two men, both young, both shrewd, both ironin will and nerve and courage, both apparently equally expert with thecards, and both just as equally capable of pleasing his clients. One wasa Scotchman, McKeever; the other was a Jew, Simonds. But in looks theywere as much alike as two peas out of one pod. They hated each otherwith silent, smiling hatred, because they knew that they were on trialfor their fortunes.
Tonight the Jew, Simonds, was dealing at one of the tables, and theScotchman, McKeever, stood at the side of the master of the house, readyto execute his commissions. Now and again his dark eyes wandered towardthe table where the Jew sat, with the cards flashing through hisfingers. McKeever hungered to be there on the firing line! How he wishedhe could feel that sifting of the polished cardboard under his fingertips. They were playing Black Jack. He noted the smooth skill with whichSimonds buried a card. And yet the trick was not perfectly done. Had he,McKeever, been there--
At this point he was interrupted by the easy, oily voice of M. Fernand."This is an infernal nuisance!"
McKeever raised his eyebrows and waited for an explanation. Two youngmen, very young, very straight, had just come into the rooms. One heknew to be Jerry Smith.
"Another table and dealer wasted," declared M. Fernand. "Smith--and, byheavens, he's brought some friend of his with him!"
"Shall I see if I can turn them away without playing?" asked McKeever.
"No, not yet. Smith is a friend of John Mark. Don't forget that. Neverforget, McKeever, that the friends of John Mark must be treated withgloves--always!"
"Very good," replied McKeever, like a pupil memorizing in class.
"I'll see how far I can go with them," went on M. Fernand. He wentstraight to the telephone and rang John Mark.
"How far should I go with them?" he asked, after he had explained thatSmith had just come in.
"Is there someone with him?" asked John Mark eagerly.
"A young chap about the same age--very brown."
"That's the man I want!"
"The man you want?"
"Fernand," said Mark, without explaining, "those youngsters have goneout there to make some money at your expense."
M. Fernand growled. "I wish you'd stop using me as a bank, Mark," hecomplained. "Besides, it costs a good deal."
"I pay you a tolerable interest, I believe," said John Mark coldly.
"Of course, of course! Well"--this in a manner of greatresignation--"how much shall I let them take away?"
"Bleed them both to death if you want. Let them play on credit. Go asfar as you like."
"Very well," said Fernand, "but--"
"I may be out there later, myself. Good-by."
The face of Frederic Fernand was dark when he went back to McKeever."What do you think of the fellow with Jerry Smith?" he asked.
"Of him?" asked McKeever, fencing desperately for another moment, as hestared at Ronicky Doone.
The latter was idling at a table close to the wall, running his handsthrough a litter of magazines. After a moment he raised his headsuddenly and glanced across the room at McKeever. The shock of meetingglances is almost a physical thing. And the bold, calm eyes of RonickyDoone lingered on McKeever and seemed to judge him and file thatjudgment away.
McKeever threw himself upon the wings of his imagination. There wassomething about this fellow, or his opinion would not have been asked.What was it?
"Well?" asked Frederic Fernand peevishly. "What do you think of him?"
"I think," said the other casually, "that he's probably a Westerngunman, with a record as long as my arm."
"You think that?" asked the fat man. "Well, I've an idea that you thinkright. There's something about him that suggests action. The way helooks about, so slowly--that is the way a fearless man is apt to look,you know. Do you think you can sit at the table with Ronicky Doone, asthey call him, and Jerry Smith and win from them this evening?"
"With any sort of luck--"
"Leave the luck out of it. John Mark has made a special request.Tonight, McKeever, it's going to be your work to make the luck come toyou. Do you think you can?"
A faint smile began to dawn on the face of McKeever. Never in his lifehad he heard news so sweet to his ear. It meant, in brief, that he wasto be trusted for the first time at real manipulation of the cards. Histrust in himself was complete. This would be a crushing blow forSimonds.
"Mind you," the master of the house went on, "if you are caught atworking--"
"Nonsense!" said McKeever happily. "They can't follow my hands."
"This fellow Doone--I don't know."
"I'll take the chance."
"If you're caught I turn you out. You hear? Are you willing to take therisk?"
"Yes," said McKeever, very pale, but determined.
At the right moment McKeever approached Jerry and Ronicky, dark,handsome, smoothly amiable. He was clever enough to make no indirecteffort to introduce his topic. "I see that you gentlemen are lookingabout," he said. "Yonder is a clear table for us. Do you agree, Mr.Smith?"
Jerry Smith nodded, and, having introduced Ronicky Doone, the threestarted for the table which had been indicated.
It was in an alcove, apart from the sweep of big rooms which were givenover to the players. It lay, too, conveniently in range of the beat ofFrederic Fernand, as he moved slowly back and forth, over a limitedterritory and stopped, here and there for a word, here and there for asmile. He was smoothing the way for dollars to slide out of wallets. Nowhe deliberately stopped the party in their progress to the alcove.
"I have to meet you," he said to Ronicky. "You remind me of a friend ofmy father, a young Westerner, those many years ago. Same brown skin,same clear eye. He was a card expert, the man I'm thinking about. I hopeyou're not in the same class, my friend!"
Then he went on, laughing thunderously at his own poor jest.Particularly from the back, as he retreated, he seemed a harmless fatman, very simple, very naive. But Ronicky Doone regarded him with aninterest both cold and keen. And, with much the same regard, afterFernand had passed out of view, the Westerner regarded the table atwhich they were to sit.
In the alcove were three wall lights, giving an ample illumination--tooample to suit Ronicky Doone. For McKeever had taken the chair with theback to the light. He made no comment, but, taking the chair which wasfacing the lights, the chair which had been pointed out to him
byMcKeever, he drew it around on the far side and sat down next to theprofessional gambler.