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diff --git a/old/68549-0.txt b/old/68549-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a5905b1..0000000 --- a/old/68549-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13637 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The poisoned paradise, by Robert W. -Service - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The poisoned paradise - A romance of Monte Carlo - -Author: Robert W. Service - -Release Date: July 17, 2022 [eBook #68549] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by Cornell - University Digital Collections) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POISONED PARADISE *** - - - - - - THE - POISONED PARADISE - - A ROMANCE OF MONTE CARLO - - BY - ROBERT W. SERVICE - AUTHOR OF “THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT,” “RHYMES OF - A ROLLING STONE,” “THE PRETENDER,” ETC. - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - 1922 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1922, - BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. - - First Printing, Oct., 1922 - Second Printing, Nov., 1922 - Third Printing, Jan., 1923 - - PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY - The Quinn & Roden Company - BOOK MANUFACTURERS - RAHWAY NEW JERSEY - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - PROLOGUE 1 - - BOOK ONE--THE STORY OF MARGOT 5 - - BOOK TWO--THE STORY OF HUGH 77 - - BOOK THREE--THE WHEEL 131 - - BOOK FOUR--THE VORTEX 245 - - BOOK FIVE--THE MAN HUNT 341 - - - - -THE POISONED PARADISE - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -The boy was sitting in a corner of the shabby room. The mother watched -him from her pillow. - -“What are you doing, dear?” - -“Drawing, Mother Lovely.” - -“Strange! Always drawing. Did I ever tell you that your father was an -artist?” - -The boy looked at her thoughtfully. His eyes were like her own, dark -and velvety; but his sunny hair contrasted with her black braids. - -“No, Mother Lovely. Had I a father?” - -“Yes, dearest. He died just before you were born. I came here hoping -that his people, so rich, so proud, would be glad to see you. But, no, -they cannot understand.... We’ll go home together, you and I, to my -home.” - -“Where is that, Mother?” - -“Monaco, the great rock that rises from the sea, where my family has -lived for generations. Listen, little son ... if I should not be able -to go with you, you must go alone. You will find the house where lives -my mother, a plain, quiet house with brown shutters near the Cathedral. -In front four pepper-trees shield it from the sun, and through the -pines one can see the blue glimmer of the sea....” - -“Is it beautiful, my mother?” - -“Always beautiful. The people sing from very joy. In the garden of the -Prince, just in front of our house, there is a broken pillar covered -with ivy. Beside it is a spring where flowers bloom even in summer -heat. It was there we used to meet, your father and I.... Ah! I have -never regretted it, never....” - -Her girlish face was as sweet as a flower, but her eyes held memories -too tragic for tears. - -Then the door opened and a woman entered with a masterful air. - -“I’m preparin’ yer potion, ma’am. The doctor said you was to take it -at eight o’clock. Come on, sonny, it’s bedtime. Ma wants to get a good -long night.” - -The child looked imploringly at his mother. She shook her head. - -“No, dearest, you must do what the lady tells you. Come, good-night.” - -She held him in her arms, kissing him again and again. “You, too, will -be an artist ... but you must be brave, my little son; for you have a -hard, hard life before you.” - -Then she let him go, but he turned at the door. “Good-night, Mother -Lovely.” - -“Good-night, darling one. Think of what I told you,--of _home_....” - -She was alone now. Closing her eyes she saw a little _U_ shaped harbour -shielded from the sea. It was as delicate as a pastel, a placque of -sapphire set in pearl. In the crystal air the red-roofed houses crowded -close to it, the terraced town rose on tip-toe to peer at it. All was -glitter and gleam and radiant beauty. Yet yonder in sombre contrast -rose the Rock, monstrous, moody, mediæval. - -Once more she climbed the long steep hill; she crossed the sunny -square in front of the palace; she passed into the cool gloom of the -narrow streets. Then at last she stood before the low brown house with -its tiny porch and its four pepper-trees.... - -Home.... Home. Would she ever see it again? - -Moaning, she turned her face to the wall. - - * * * * * - - - - -BOOK ONE - -_The Story of Margot_ - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - -THE OUTCAST - - -1. - -“That you, Margot?” - -“Yes, Mother.” - -“For God’s sake close the door. You don’t think I break my back -gathering wood that you may warm the wide world.” - -There was a scuffle of sabots anxiously retreating. - -“Margot!” - -“Yes, Mother.” - -“You’re not going away again, are you?” - -“I....” - -“Come here, little toad. I’ve something to say to you.” - -Submissively from the shadow of the doorway slipped a girl. She had -twin braids of pale gold hair, and between them like a wedge, her face -showed waxen with cold. - -“’Fraid I’ll eat you?” snapped the woman. “Come here, near to me. -Brought home any money?” - -“No, Mother.” - -“But I told you to ask.” - -“I did not dare. Madame will not pay in advance. The last time I asked -her she almost sent me away.” - -“_Nom de Dieu!_ Couldn’t you give her some story? Your little sister’s -sick. There’s no food in the house. Your poor mother’s.... Ugh! What -a fool I have for a daughter. So all you’ve brought back’s an empty -stomach. Oh, I could strike you, I could.” - -She suited the gesture to the threat, and the girl arched her slender -arms to stave off the blow. But the woman dropped her hands disgustedly. - -“Bah! what’s the use. If I could only make you cry there’d be some -relish in it. But no! I beat you till my arms ache and never a whimper. -That’s your stubborn nature. You’ll do nothing to please me. Oh, you’re -a stubborn little devil, still as a mouse, obstinate as a mule. There’s -something in you, daughter, I can’t get at. But I will. I’ll thrash it -out of you. You wait. Not to-night. I’m too tired to-night....” - -From the tumbler at her elbow she took a gulp of cider and brandy, -then turned broodingly to the fire. The sickly flames betrayed the -wretchedness of the room, the gaunt rafters, the floor of beaten earth. -On a deal table lay a clasp knife, and beside it a loaf of bread. The -girl eyed the bread avidly. Then her hand, red and claw-cold, stole to -the knife, while her gaze rested fearfully on her mother. But the woman -no longer heeded. - -“What a life!” she was muttering. “What a home! And to think I’d -have been rolling in my auto, and crackling in silk and satin, if I -hadn’t been a fool. That’s my weak point.... I always wanted to be -respectable, to be married--all that sentimental rot. Well, I’ve made -my bed and I’ve got to lie on it. But it’s hell....” - -She stared dismally at her draggled skirts, her coarsely stockinged -feet, her wooden shoes so warped and worn. Seeing her absorbed, the -girl hacked off a piece of bread and fell to wolfing it. The woman went -on, her face harsh and haggard in the light of the fire: - -“There was the American. Mad about me, he was. If I’d played my cards -right he’d have married me. What a time he gave me, Paris, Venice, -Monte Carlo.... Oh, Monte Carlo! But he had to go back home at last. -His wife! Told me to wait and he’d get a divorce. Gave me all the money -he had. Nearly five hundred pounds. Believe me, I was pretty in them -days.” - -As if for confirmation, she stroked her hollow cheeks. Tears of -self-pity welled in her weary eyes. - -“Ah! if I’d known, I would have waited. But there was Pierre plaguing -me to marry him. Told me he’d loved me since we’d worked together in -that hotel in Brighton; me as bar-maid, him as head-waiter. Mighty nice -he used to look too in his dress suit. He said he’d been left some -money and wanted to go back to the little town where he was born and -buy a pub. So we was married, once in England and once in France. God! -I was particular in them days.” - -She laughed bitterly, and took another gulp of the mixture in her -glass. Her eyes went glassy. Her fingers clutched unseen things. She -maundered on. - -“Yes, I was happy there. It was all so new to me. Then we began to get -ambitious. The landlord of the big hotel died suddenly. It was a great -chance for Pierre, but he had not money enough to take it. There was -where I came in. I gave him my five hundred pounds. Told him an aunt -had left it to me. He believed me. We bought the hotel and everything -seemed to go well. Yes, them were the happy days.” - -A fit of coughing interrupted her. When it was over she took another -drink. - -“I don’t know how Pierre got to know about the American. He was away a -month and when he came back he was changed. He explained nothing, but -he treated me like dirt. It was that made me take to the drink.” - -She was silent awhile. Then.... - -“He didn’t seem to care about the business any more and I was drinking -too much to care; so we went from bad to worse. We lost the hotel and -went back to the _buvette_. Then we lost that too, and he had to take -a waiter’s place. By this time the drink was master of me. I tried to -give it up but it was no use. When Cécile was born I thought I’d be -able to stop, but I was worse than ever. If he’d only tried to help me! -But no, he hated me; and I began to hate him too. We fought day and -night, like cat and dog. Well, it’s a long, long story, and here’s the -end.” - -She threw a withered branch of gorse on the fire. It blazed up gold as -its own May-day bloom. The girl had climbed on a bench by the high bed -and was bending fondly over. - -“Margot!” screamed the woman. - -The girl started. In the sudden flare, her face was an ashen mask of -fear. - -“What are you doing there?” - -“I’m just looking at Cécile, Mother.” - -“Come away at once. Haven’t I told you a hundred times not to go -near her? I know you with your sneaking ways. You want to steal her -away from me. She’s the only one I’ve got left, and I want her to -myself,--all, all. If ever you go near her, I’ll kill you. See!” - -A fit of coughing choked her utterance. Again the girl stole to the -door. - -“Margot!” - -“Yes, Mother.” - -“Fetch the bottle of brandy from the cupboard.” - -The woman poured herself a stiff glass and downed it in a gulp. - -“Come here, you little imp; I want to look at you.” - -She drew the shrinking girl to her. Her lips twitched with spite. - -“His eyes, his mouth, his chin. The very image of him. And he says -you’re not his daughter. Ah! that was the knife in me. Do you hear, -girl? Your father says you’re not his daughter.” - -She laughed harshly, scornfully. - -“You’re so much his daughter that I hate you, hate you!” - -The girl had begun to struggle, but the woman was holding her with -spiteful strength. - -“Let me tell you something. He came to-day and told me he was going -away for ever. He tried to take Cécile, but I fought for her, fought -like a wild cat to hold her. You understand?” - -The girl winced in her savage grip. - -“Hear that. You’ve no father. He disowns you. And let me tell you -something more,--you’ve no mother.... I disown you, too. After to-night -I never want to see you again. You’re the dead image of him and I hate -him too much. Now go!” - -She hurled the girl from her and took another gulp of the neat brandy. -The glass dropped from her hand. She sagged forward. - -Except for the crackle of the burning twigs all was quiet. The girl -gathered a hurried armful of clothes. She was glad to go, but for -Cécile! - -She stole over to the bed where her sister lay sleeping. She saw a -cluster of golden curls, a wan little face with lips parted and lashes -that seemed to cast a shadow. Bending down, she kissed the white cheek. -The heavy lashes stirred, the big blue eyes opened, the child’s silken -arm stole around her neck. - -“You’ve come home, Margot?” - -“Yes, but I’m going away again.” - -“Don’t go, Margot. Don’t leave me. I’m afraid of Mother. Stay with me. -Stay with your little Cécile.” - -“No, I can’t. Kiss me, dear.” - -The child held her so tightly it was difficult to free herself. Then -the mother turned. She shrieked in sudden fury, and the girl in her -terror made a leap for the door. But the latch jammed; and, the while -she was fumbling with it, the woman made a rush for her. - -The girl screamed with fright. The woman, in her haste, stumbled, -caught herself, and with a foul oath snatched the knife from the -table.... - -That was Margot’s last memory of her mother,--a harridan hurling curses -at her and threatening her with a naked knife.... - -Sobbing with terror, she stumbled over the stone sill of the doorway -and gained the sanctuary of the night. - - -2. - -The night had on her robe of carnival, and her spangled skirts made -glorious the sky. The girl halted by the wayside, where a line of -clipped oaks blotted themselves against the stars. She did not cry, for -she had lost the habit of tears, but drew long sobbing breaths. - -The night wore drearily on, the stars seemed to glitter in cruel -unconcern. The girl dozed and dreamed a little.... - -_She was a child of four, the happiest and best dressed in all the -village. She had robes of lace, and silk ribbands, and shoes of satin. -Her mother cared for her like a little princess, and her father carried -her proudly in his arms. Every one said she was spoiled. She had more -toys than all the other children put together. But the most precious of -all was a doll as big as a real baby, a doll that opened and shut its -eyes, and had jointed arms and legs. She had a dozen dresses for this -doll, and spent hours and hours caring for it...._ - -_She was a girl of ten. She wore a long white robe and a veil over -her head. Some said she looked like a fairy, some an angel. It was -her first Communion, and of a score of girls she was the prettiest by -far. She it was who headed the shining procession through the long -grey street of the village. The way was strewn with lily leaves, and -child-voices blended sweetly in the June sunshine...._ - -That was her last memory of happiness. Her father suddenly changed. -Where she had known only caresses, harsh words and bitter looks were -now her portion. The home once so joyful, was the scene of sordid -wrangling. She was allowed to go about shabby and dirty, and became -nothing but a slipshod drudge. - -Her father never struck her, but her mother beat her cruelly. It was a -relief when she was apprenticed to the local dress-maker and spent her -day away from the misery of home. But oh, the nights when she ate her -slovenly supper and waited for the inevitable out-break! When it came -and the storm raged at its height, her father would retreat with Cécile -to the cottage of her grandmother and leave her to bear the brunt of -her mother’s drunken spite. How often had she been thrashed, how often -torn from her bed, and flung half-clad into the night! In the old barn -there was a corner where she had many a time crouched and shivered -until dawn. Ah, what bitter memories! Would any amount of happiness -ever efface them? - -So half brooding, half dreaming, the night passed away. She opened her -eyes wide and found she had gained a ridge not far from a forest. She -looked down a billowy slope of tree-tops to the misty level of the -plain. It was a grim grey world; but even as she gazed, a silver wire -seemed to be drawn along the horizon. The stillness was intense, a -listening, waiting stillness; from the other side of the sky some god -seemed to be pouring over the cloud-fleece a solution of light. - -Then as she looked she saw that the sinister quality of the light had -gone. The silver wire had broadened to a glint of pearl; slowly it -glowed to a pink as delicate as that of sea-shells. The pink deepened -to a rose, kindled and spread. Waves of colour rippled up the sky, -brightening with every wave. Shade succeeded shade. Rich crimson -battled with cerise and rose with coral pink. Then suddenly came a leap -of gold, the gold of daffodils. It brimmed into a dazzling flood. It -welled and glowed and spread; and before its radiant lucidity the orgy -of colour melted away. Then into that indomitable light,--a primrose -rim, a golden segment, the sun was launched in all its glory. - -The sunshine and the song of birds gave her courage. The world began -to glitter. Warbling notes came from the bushes, and dew-drops -spangled the thread of gossamer. In this world, so fresh, so fair, the -happenings of the night before seemed to her an evil dream. - -The few peasants she passed gazed at her curiously. Over her shoulder -was slung her bundle, and her pale, peaked face between its twin braids -of bright hair had all the entreaty of a beaten dog. - -As she trudged wearily on she came to a glade, flooded with sunshine -and perfumed with pine. Bees droned in the wild thyme, from the fork of -a tree a squirrel scolded, on a hollow oak nearby a wood-pecker drummed -sonorously. And in the midst of this scene of peace an old man was -painting. - -He was not a nice old man. His skin was white, the dead white of an -onion, and the girl noted that flies swarmed round and round him. They -settled on his blouse and walked over his beard but he took no notice -of them. He seemed to attract flies as carrion attracts them. He gave -the girl a contemptuous look. - -“Well, what d’ye think of my picture?” - -“It’s very pretty, sir.” - -“Pretty be damned. Never tell an artist his work’s pretty.” - -The girl was turning away when his voice arrested her. - -“Where are you going?” - -“I don’t know, sir.” - -“Why? Haven’t you got a home?” - -“No, sir.” - -He turned round and looked at her hard. He seemed to reflect. - -“Wouldn’t you like to go to Paris?” - -The girl started. Paris! It was the most beautiful, the most wonderful -city in the world. It had been one of her dreams that some day she -might visit it. - -“Yes, sir,” she answered. - -“Then, why not?” - -“I have no money.” - -“Is that the only reason?” - -“I have no friends there.” - -“You would make friends in time. Why not go?” - -“Oh, no, sir. I should be afraid. Maybe, I could not find work.” - -“Humph! Perhaps, I could help you to find work. Come here.” - -Timidly she drew near. She did not like him, but she felt she must -obey. The flies were on his shoulders in a grey cloud. He had a very -small mouth, with lips that were shiny. He moistened these very often -with his tongue. In his ears were wads of pink cotton wool. He put out -a puffy, yellow hand and touched her. He tilted back her sharp chin. He -held one of the thick braids of her shiny hair. - -“Bah! you won’t be much of a model for the figure. But I might make -something of your head. Wait till I finish my work, and I’ll see what I -can do for you.” - -There was such an air of command in his tone that again she felt she -must obey. So she sat down on her bundle and waited patiently. He -worked without heeding her, until a little before noon, when he rose -and gathered together his materials. - -“Come now. I’ll go with you to the station.” - -Doglike she followed at his heels. The village was about two miles -away. He bought her some bread and chocolate and a bottle of cheap wine. - -“You’re as hungry as a young wolf, eh! Well, you can eat on the train. -Come quickly or you will miss it.” - -She went with him to the station. There he gave her a third class -ticket for Paris and a sealed letter. - -“Go to the address on the envelope. Go direct. My housekeeper will make -you comfortable.” - -Then the train arrived and he looked at her with eyes that shone -curiously. - -“You will help Madame Mangepain with the housework till I come. After -that we will see.” - -As the train moved off she saw him standing on the platform, licking -his lips and surrounded by a swarm of flies. - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -THE MAN ON WHOM FLIES SETTLED - - -Two o’clock in the morning at the Gare du Montparnasse. The girl was -dazed and weary. She sat on her bundle in the stale greyness of the -station, waiting anxiously for the dawn. About six o’clock she ventured -forth, and holding her precious envelope in her hand inquired her way -at the corner of every street. - -A morning of exquisite metal, vivid, spacious, resplendent. As she -crossed the Seine by the Pont Royal, the sky was golden and against -it gloomed the twin towers of Notre Dame. The palaces of the Louvre -swam in lovely light and the Gardens of the Tuileries seemed washed -in yellow wine. Up the long rise of the Champs-Elysées, the Arc de -Triomphe was superbly radiant, its turquoise heart stillettoed by the -glittering lunge of the Luxor Column. - -The girl gazed with awestruck eyes. As she thought of the sunrise in -the forest the violence of the change dulled her brain. The city amazed -and appalled her; but, impelled by fear, she came at length to the -heights of Montmartre. There before a gloomy house in the Rue Lepic she -paused, her heart beating thickly. - -She knocked at the heavy oak-door, timidly at first, then loudly. -She had a sudden fear that there might be no one there. As she was -wondering what she should do she heard slow, shuffling footsteps, and -a withdrawal of bolts, then the door opened a little. An old woman -regarded her angrily. She was bent almost double, and held her head -sideways. Her face was hard and sour. She snarled: - -“What are you making all this row for? Couldn’t you have the patience -to wait till I got down?” - -The girl presented her letter. The old woman regarded it suspiciously. - -“Who gave you this?” - -“The old man who paints in the forest.” - -“Ah! Monsieur Frossard. Well, you can’t expect me to read it without my -glasses. Wait there.” - -She closed the door, leaving the girl on the step; but soon she came -back, and her face was grimmer than ever. - -“Another of ’em. Well, I suppose I must take you in. He’s quite the -philanthropist, Monsieur Frossard. He! He!” - -The old woman preceded her down a long corridor, her back bent and her -feet splayed out. They mounted a broad flight of stairs, then a narrow -one. - -“There! that’s your room, and lucky you are to have it. I’ll warrant -a pig-stye is more in your line. You are a poor bit of skin and bone -anyway. Leave your bundle on the bed and come with me to the kitchen.” - -The girl soon fell into the ways of the household. She rose at five and -prepared the coffee. She scrubbed and rubbed, washed and swept. She -did everything but the cooking and the marketing. The old woman seldom -spoke to her, and forbade her to put a foot out-of-doors. - -The house was a private one, with a large studio facing the north, and -a small, weedy garden shut in by high walls. The girl was allowed to go -into the garden, but its damp melancholy oppressed her. Some headless -statues leaned against the mouldering wall. It was very quiet. She -felt as if she were in a prison. - -One Sunday morning Monsieur Frossard arrived. For days before they had -been making preparations, dusting statuettes and bric-à-brac, sweeping -in unwonted nooks and corners. The old woman sidled everywhere like a -crab, with her neck twisted awry, her bent back and large splay feet in -felt slippers. She kept Margot at work, constantly impressing on her -the necessity of pleasing the Master. So much did she harp on this that -the girl looked forward to the old man’s return almost with dread. - -On his arrival he went to his room and retired into his great -four-poster bed. The old woman attended to him, carrying him specially -prepared dishes, and dusty bottles of wine. - -That evening she said to the girl: “Margot, put on a clean apron and -take this plate of peaches up to the Master.” - -Tremblingly the girl obeyed. Monsieur Frossard was propped up in bed, -a skull cap on his head, and a cigar in his mouth. Around him was the -debris of his evening meal, the carcase of a lobster, some bones of -frog-legs, and a half finished bottle of champagne. As she approached -she was conscious of a strange odour of decay. The old man looked at -her, licking his little slimy lips while a score of flies buzzed and -settled around him. The pink cotton wool was still in his ears. She -wondered if there was any connection between the cotton wool and the -flies. An odd revulsion seized her, yet she continued to approach with -the fruit. - -“_Tiens!_ it’s the little girl I found in the forest. What’s your name?” - -“Margot, Sir.” - -“Come here, Margot, close to me. Let me offer you a peach.” - -The girl, standing with her head bent, refused. - -“Ah! you are too timid. We must cure you of that.” - -He put out one of his pudgy hands and took hold of a long bright strand -of her hair. The girl raised her startled blue eyes. The hand on her -shining hair made her think of a toad. She shuddered. The old man’s -face changed; it became hard and cruel. - -“Go away,” he said harshly. “I will see you to-morrow.” - -Next morning Madame Mangepain said to her: - -“The Master wants to see you in the studio.” - -The girl went reluctantly. The studio had always awed her. It was so -huge, so rich. There were costly rugs on the floor and lovely pictures -on the wall. The paintings all bore the signature of Abel Frossard, and -ranged from nudes to landscapes. - -The painter, in his velvet cap and dressing-gown, was sitting before a -fresh canvas. He turned heavily and beckoned her to enter. His manner -was bland, even ingratiating. - -“Well, Margot, you are commencing this morning your new career, that of -a model.” - -“Yes, sir,” said the girl meekly. - -“You’d better say ‘Yes, Master.’” - -“Yes, Master.” - -“Now as a model, you may be a success or you may be a failure. I -will do my best to make you a success, but it will largely depend -on yourself. There’s many a woman to-day with her limousine and her -appartement in the Champs-Elysées who began life as a model. On the -other hand, if you are a failure there is only the street for you, the -hospital, prison, death ... you understand.” - -“Yes, Master.” - -“Ah, good! By the way, why were you afraid of me last night?” - -The girl did not answer. She was looking at a fly that was crawling on -the pink cotton wool in his ear. - -“You mustn’t be afraid. You’ll never make a success as a model if you -are afraid. Now to work.” - -He motioned her to a dais, on which stood a chair that seemed all -curves. - -“Sit there and loosen your hair.” - -The girl obeyed. It fell in a sheen of gold around her. He handed her a -brush. - -“Brush it out so that it is like an aura.” - -She did not understand, but brushed and brushed, with long, sweeping -strokes. The old man had forgotten he was anything but a painter. - -“Fine,” he said enthusiastically. “Now raise your head and look at -the statuette above the book case. There! That’s good. Just hold the -position. I will make a preliminary study to-day.” - -The girl sat quite still, and the old man painted intently. She posed -until luncheon, which she ate with Madame Mangepain in the kitchen, and -at two o’clock returned to the studio and resumed the pose. At five -o’clock the old man laid down his brush and rubbed his hands. - -“There! I’ve finished. Come and see it.” - -She looked at the beautiful bit of brush work. She could not believe -that this ethereal girl-face with the eyes so thrillingly blue and the -nimbus of bright gold hair was herself. The old man observed her awe -with satisfaction. - -“You like it, eh? Yes, it’s good. A bit idealized. Well, it’s nothing -to what I will do before I finish. I’ll make Chabas look to his laurels -yet. Ah! your hair! it’s what inspires me. Tadé Stycka has no better -model. I’ll make your hair famous.” - -Turning her to admire it the more, he parted it behind; then suddenly -the girl felt his lips pressed to the back of her neck. She started -as if a serpent had stung her and put her hand to the place. Again a -shudder passed over her. For a moment a strange look came into his -eyes, then they went cold again, and he laughed reassuringly. - -“Ha! Ha! you mustn’t mind me. It’s purely paternal. It won’t do you any -harm. Now go and get a good supper. I’ll want you to-morrow. Don’t look -at me in such a frightened way. I’m not an ogre. I won’t eat you.” - -The next day she posed for him again, but this time he did not attempt -to kiss her. He was very authoritative. - -“Pull up your sleeves,” he said sharply. - -She obeyed. He looked derisively at her skinny arms. - -“Now, open your dress and show me your shoulders. Coil up your hair on -your head first.” - -Again she obeyed. When he was like this she was not afraid of him. It -was as if there were two men in him, the artist and the satyr. He was -all artist as he continued: - -“Humph! You’ll never do. You’re nothing but bones and green shadows.” - -He threw down his palette and walked heavily about the room. - -“Too bad you’re so thin. I feel I could do big things with you. But -I must, I must! We’ll fatten you up if it takes a year. Listen, I’m -going away to-morrow to Morocco. I’ll be gone a month. In that time I -want you to get fat. Do nothing, eat lots, read, amuse yourself. Turn -your angles into curves. You hear?” - -“Yes, Master.” - -“Now, don’t forget. If you’re not round and smooth by the time I come -back, I will have no more use for you. Then it’s the street. You know -what that means. Go!” - -She went, and later on she heard him instructing the housekeeper. - -“I’m going to-morrow, Madame Mangepain, to Morocco, and I want that -girl to be plumped up. Fatten her as you would a chicken. She’s going -to be my favourite model. I can do great things with her. Great things! -Let her do no work. Wait on her. Feed her dainty dishes. Buy her fine -clothes, silks and that sort of thing. Books too. Don’t let her move -about too much. Remember, it’s for my sake not hers. I rely on you, -Madame Mangepain. And I say, address her as mademoiselle.” - -He left next morning and Margot felt a huge sense of relief. It was as -if something corrupt had gone out of the house. She could not get over -this feeling of _pourriture_ even when she was posing for him in the -big studio. Perhaps his breath was so fetid, that it pervaded every -room he entered. - -When he had gone, her life changed completely. Madame Mangepain said to -her at supper: - -“Don’t get up to-morrow morning. I’ll bring you your breakfast in bed.” - -“Oh, no, madame.” - -“I tell you I will. It’s the Master’s orders. I’ve been told to serve -you and I will ... mademoiselle.” - -“Oh, please don’t call me mademoiselle.” - -“It’s the Master’s orders.” - -The next morning the girl remained in bed until the old woman sidled in -with a tray of _café au lait_, _croissants_ and fine butter. - -“Now stay in bed till I come back.” - -The girl heard her go out, locking the door. She returned an hour later -carrying a large parcel containing a kimono of mauve silk, fine lace -underwear, silk stockings, and velvet shoes. - -“There! Put these on. It’s the Master’s orders. And I’ll go and prepare -your bath.” - -It must be said that Madame Mangepain entered on her undertaking with -zeal if not with enthusiasm. She taught the girl the elegancies of the -toilette, the care of her skin, how to point and polish her nails and -to bring to perfection her teeth and her hair. She had quite a battery -of bottles and brushes, of oils and paints and perfumes. Margot spent -every morning in the white-tiled bathroom, meticulously following the -régime that the old woman demanded of her. - -For luncheon, each day she was given dainty dishes such as she had -never dreamed of; then, wrapt in the mauve kimono and stretched out on -the great divan in the studio amid a pile of cushions, she would read -one of the luridly covered novels the old woman bought for her. Among -them were _Chéri-Bebé_, _Dracula_ and _Les deux Gosses_. These books -absorbed her, made her forget her strange surroundings, which otherwise -filled her with a vague fear. Sometimes she even thought of escape, -when she sat on fine afternoons in the wild unweeded garden amid the -headless statues. By climbing upon one of them she could have gained -the top of the wall and freedom. But after that ... what? The streets! -She had a horror of the outer world which the old woman never lost an -opportunity of developing. According to Madame Mangepain Paris was a -merciless ogre, demanding its daily tribute of a thousand girls such as -she, crushing and devouring them. - -One day as she peered through a window into the street, she saw a girl -about her age in a violet blouse with black, oily hair banged on her -forehead, and at her side, a pale stunted youth with a reckless mouth -and eyes cold as those of a snake. They seemed to be having words. -Suddenly the youth struck the girl, knocking her down; then snatched -a cheap trinket from her throat, and with a final vicious kick, went -off laughing cynically. This typical scene of apache life made a deep -impression on her. - -“It’s all like that,” she thought,--“the life out there. It’s what will -happen to me.” - -“Ah, I’ll make a beauty of you yet,” said Madame Mangepain at the end -of the second week. “Monsieur Frossard won’t know you when he comes -back.” - -And indeed the girl was amazed at the change in herself. Her skin had -become smooth and velvety, her limbs round and firm. Her face, too, -had changed. It had retained its quality of childishness, but had lost -its cowed and shrinking look. Hints of sweetness and charm revealed -themselves. If only she could get away, find decent work, escape from -the sinister old man into whose clutches she had fallen. Every day the -dread of his return grew upon her. - -Then one night Monsieur Frossard came back. - -When she brought Margot her coffee next morning Madame Mangepain said -to her: - -“Get up and make yourself as beautiful as you can. Monsieur Frossard -wants to see you in the studio. Be sure you are a credit to me.” - -The old woman went so far as to superintend her toilette, putting a -faint flush of rouge high on her cheeks, and brushing her hair like -spun gold down over the mauve kimono. But nothing could mask the -wretchedness in the depths of the girl’s eyes. - -As she stood in the doorway of the studio Monsieur Frossard turned -ponderously. - -“_Entrez, voyons._ Don’t stand there like a Christian martyr going to -the stake. Come here.” - -With eyes cast down she obeyed. He pulled up the sleeve of her kimono -and looked at her arm with a critical, dispassionate gaze. - -“_Ah, bon._ Now do up your hair in the glass and bare your shoulders. -I’m going to do a bust of you to-day.” - -Again she obeyed, his eyes following her eagerly. - -“Sit on the model’s chair. Bare your breast more. What are you afraid -of, you little fool? Remember, I’m an artist. I’ve been itching to -paint you, itching. I’ve thought of you all the time I’ve been away. I -have a dozen ideas. I’m going to make you famous.” - -A passion almost cruel in its intensity seemed to seize him. -Imperiously he made her hold the pose and painted with swift sure -strokes. He stopped reluctantly for lunch and bade her hurry and again -take the pose. He worked until the light failed, then laid aside his -brush with a regretful sigh. - -“_Voila!_ Come and look at this.” - -Again the girl marvelled at what she saw. These curves of milky -shoulders, that slim, silky beauty of neck and throat, the shell-like -ear, the faintly hollow cheek with its suggestion of pathetic -sweetness, and above all the superb mass of hair,--here glinting with -the brightness of stubble in September sunshine, there richly gold as -the ripened grain. Could this really be she? Frossard might be a devil, -but he painted like an angel. - -“I’m tired now,” he said, “I want to rest until dinner. You’ll take -dinner with me in the studio. We’ll celebrate.” - -She heard him with a heaviness of heart. All his artistic fire had left -him and he seemed to be very old. More than ever she was conscious of -his odour, and the flies that followed him everywhere. The joy the -sight of her picture had given her was extinguished. She went away -quickly. - -Madame Mangepain served them a dinner that excelled anything the girl -had ever conceived. Margot ate scarcely at all. Frossard, however, made -up for her lack of appetite. He filled himself with delicious food, -washed down with draughts of Beaunè from a dusty bottle. He lingered -long over the dessert, talking to her of his travels in Morocco, and -looking for all the world, like a bloated, heavy-eyed pasha. - -“Have one of these cigarettes,” he said. “I get them specially in -Cairo.” - -The girl refused. - -“Then, you must have a glass of this champagne. It’s quite harmless. -You can dip one of those biscuits in it.” - -He bade her finish the champagne. It was the first she had ever tasted -and it made her dizzy. The old man seemed to have grown very vivacious. -He was taking glass after glass, and talking more and more excitedly. -Suddenly he reached out and took hold of her. - -Then fear seized her. She struggled to escape, but he held her tight. -All at once she felt his shiny little lips on her neck, cold as -the mouth of the fish called a sucker. She had just been reading -“_Dracula_,” a story about vampires, and the idea flashed into her mind -that this old man was going to bite her neck and suck her blood. She -screamed. - -He was panting, and a wild light was in his eyes. “It’s no use to -squeal. Madame Mangepain has gone out. You are all alone in the house -with me.” - -Terror gave her strength. With a wrench and a twist she broke away, -leaving the mauve kimono in his hands. She ran to the door of the -studio; but before she reached it he was after her. He had her again -in his arms. Great strength seemed suddenly to come to him. His eyes -glared, his breath came with a hiss. - -“Ah! you won’t escape. I’ll have you. Ach! you struggle, you little -vixen! But your resistance only maddens me. It’s no use, you’re mine, -mine.” - -Fighting with all the force that was in her, she was borne backward, -and thrown heavily on the divan. She saw his face bending over her, -his eyes alight, the saliva drooling from his mouth. Once more she -struggled but he held her with a grip of steel. She felt herself grow -faint. Again and again she shrieked. Oh God! Would no one come to her -aid? - -She felt her strength leaving her. All she could see were his eyes, -flaming with cruel lust. How she hated those eyes. She would destroy -them, put out their light, if it cost the last effort of her life. -Wrenching her arms free she caught his head at the temples, and with a -fierce thrust pushed her small, pointed thumbs into the gloating eyes. -With an oath the man pulled himself free and struck her down. Then he -threw himself on the couch, screaming, screaming. - -She ran to the front door but it was locked. She rushed up to her room -and bolted herself in. She lay on her bed sobbing hysterically. She -heard the sound of hurried feet, much coming and going. In the silence -that followed Madame Mangepain knocked at her door. - -“Open, you little viper.” - -The face of Madame Mangepain was cold and deadly in its fury. “You’ve -done it now. You’ve finished the Master. The doctor says he’ll never -see again. He’ll be blind, do you hear; blind. A great artist, a genius -worth a dozen little trollops like you. Now go, and an old woman’s -curse go with you!” - -With that Madame Mangepain took her by the shoulders and threw her into -the street. She heard the door bang behind her. She was alone in Paris. - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -THE BISTRO ON THE RUE DE BELVILLE - - -The crash of the closing door struck a note of terror in the girl’s -heart. It was long after midnight, and she was at the mercy of this -sinister city. She tripped over a box of ash-pan refuse that stood on -the edge of the pavement; from it ran two large rats. Afraid to be -longer in the unlighted street she made her way down to the Boulevard -de Clichy. - -On the Butte another hectic night had ended. In the cafés the waiters -were stacking the tables; the theatres were dark and silent, the girls -of the pavement loitering homeward with their men. Only from the -rakehell restaurants of the Place Pigalle did there issue sounds of -revelry. It was Montmartre of the profligate, of the apache. Under the -greenish glare of the electric light the girl cowered, a tiny black -shadow in a world of sinister shadows. Then sinking down on one of the -benches she gave herself up to despair. - -Now and again a man addressed her; but she kept her face hidden in her -arched arms and did not answer. She trembled at every footstep; the -hours seemed endless; she longed for the dawn. - -Chilled through she rose and walked on. Two gendarmes looked curiously -at her. She was afraid they would arrest her, and quickened her steps. -She kept moving until she was exhausted, then she sank down on another -bench. - -Stale and jaded, like a drab after a night of excess the dawn came in. -The sallow light seemed to shudder up the sky. Already the city gave -signs of awakening to another day. The milk-merchants opened their -doors; boys on bicycles delivered bundles of newspapers; the bakers -took down their shutters. From where she sat, Margot watched a number -of work-girls buy fresh rolls, then go to a little bar across the way, -and eat their _déjeuner_ of bread and coffee. Soon bells sounded from -neighbouring factories, and the girls hurried away. - -From the little bar came a woman. At first Margot thought she was a -dwarf, but a second glance showed her to be a hunchback. She was very -clean and tidy. Her face had that look of patient suffering so often -seen on the faces of hunchbacks. It was a very kind, sweet face, but -with a certain shrewdness. She nodded to Margot in a friendly way. - -“Well, dearie, things going well?” - -The girl looked at her with sad eyes. - -“Ah! I see,--in the soup. Well, it arrives to all the world. One day -up, another down. Come and give me a hand with my shutters. _Sapristi!_ -what it is not to have a man in the business.” - -Margot helped the woman to take down the shutters. Over the shop was -painted the sign: - - +-----------------------+ - | | - | A LA MÈRE TRANQUILLE, | - | | - +-----------------------+ - -and this sign was repeated on the window and the door. Inside there -was a circular bar lined with zinc; and around it half a dozen -marble-topped tables. - -“Now, come in, dearie,” said the little hunchback. “I’m just going to -sit down to breakfast, and you are going to join me.” - -With that she took the girl by the arm and led her behind the bar. They -had fresh rolls and butter, and hot fragrant coffee. The girl devoured -the food as if famished and the woman watched her curiously. - -“You certainly are hungry, my child,” she observed. “It’s good to see -you eat. You look tired too, as if you had been out all night. From the -country, aren’t you?” - -Encouraged by the little woman’s sympathy the girl told her story. When -she had finished the Mère Tranquille looked at her thoughtfully. - -“Just so,” she said, “a poor, pretty girl alone in Paris is about as -safe as a young lamb lost among wolves. You’ll get devoured, my dear, -as sure as sure. Look here, I can see you’re an honest girl. I tell -you what. I need some one to help me here. Come and stay with me for -a while,--at least till you find something better. You will live with -me and help me in the bar. You shall be at no expense and you can make -four or five francs a day in tips. Will you come?” - -“Oh, madame, you don’t know how gladly! Let me begin work now.” - -“No, you’re too tired. You want a good long rest. Come with me.” - -In the little room behind the bar, the Mère Tranquille arranged a -folding bed, and soon the girl was sleeping soundly. - -Thus there began for Margot a life that was strangely interesting. -Except at rush hours the little place was very quiet, and the work not -hard. She quickly got over her first timidity with the customers and -learned to turn a deaf ear to their rather crude pleasantries. There -was, too, a certain reserve in her manner that made her more respected -than popular. The little hunchback gave out that Margot was her niece -from the country, and her stiffness was not resented. Most of the -customers were working people, but there was also a certain backwash -of the underworld. Above the bar was one of those hotels that have no -name. By night its glowing transparency winked and signalled to the -amorous adventurer; by day it was haunted by yawning girls in greasy -dressing gowns, and by dark cynical men. Towards evening these girls -“put on their beauty,” and unbelievably transformed, sallied forth; -while the men played cards in cafés and awaited their return. - -It was one of these men who took a great fancy to Margot and tried to -dominate her. He was familiarly known as Popol, and openly boasted that -he had already three girls earning money for him. He, indeed, aspired -to be a sort of leader among his fellows, a Napoleon of the bullies. -His ambition was fostered by the fact that he was born in the slums of -Agaccio, and bore a certain physical resemblance to the Great Corsican. -He was a stout, stocky fellow, with a large head, clean-shaven, regular -features and a certain cold impressiveness of manner. There, however, -the resemblance ended; for Popol had close-set eyes as cold and deadly -as those of a rattlesnake, a mouth that twisted cynically, and a nose -that had been broken in a fight. - -Popol never quarrelled openly with any one; he had never been known to -draw a knife, yet other men were afraid of him, and those who offended -him met with unexpected misfortunes. It was even said he was a spy of -the police and did detective work of the dirtier kind. He had brains, -a cunning and subtlety that made him a power amid his fellows. - -With his cynical conception of all women he thought Margot would be -flattered by his favours. One day in the street he barred her way, -accosting her with some foul banter. She tried to push past him, and -escape. He laughed sneeringly, then, gripping her arms, tried to kiss -her. Filled with a loathing she could not control, she struck him full -in the face. Popol swore vilely and released her. - -It was with ashen cheeks and wildly beating heart that she regained -the little bar. The Mère Tranquille looked troubled when she heard the -story, but pretended to laugh it off. - -“Don’t be alarmed, _chérie_; I can defend you against a dozen of these -swine. Just treat them like the dirt they are. Ah! if only I could sell -out and retire to the country! Since my husband died, the business is -not what it used to be. I got an offer last week of fifteen thousand -francs for the good will, but I am holding out for twenty. That’s what -we gave.... It’s curious how we got the money....” - -The Mère Tranquille paused reminiscently, then continued: - -“It was at Monte Carlo, where we went for our honeymoon. Josef would -play at the Casino, and on the second day he came to me: ‘I’ve lost -everything but that,’ he said, pressing a hundred franc bill into my -hand. - -“‘A nice state of affairs,’ I cried indignantly. ‘It’s just enough to -take us back to Paris third class.’ - -“‘It’s not to take us back to Paris,’ he told me. ‘It’s make or break. -I want you to play with it. Perhaps, you’ll change the luck.’ - -“I knew what he meant and I never have forgiven him for it. You know, -my dear, that any one deformed as I am, is said to always win at games -of chance. Indeed, when we had stood around the tables I had noticed -people brush up against me and touch my back in passing. Well, I was so -angry with Josef I snatched the money from him. - -“‘I’ll show you,’ I thought. ‘This money will go after the other. If I -don’t lose it, it won’t be my fault.’ - -“With that I threw it on the first vacant place on the table nearest my -hand. It happened to be rouge. I wanted to see that money swept away. -There were tears in my eyes, tears of rage. What do you think! Rouge -came. I left everything on the table. Again rouge came. Josef wanted to -take up half the winnings: - -“‘No,’ I said vindictively; ‘let it all go.’ - -“Again rouge came. There were now eight hundred, francs on the table. - -“‘Take it up,’ whispered Josef frantically; ‘It’s more than I lost.’ -But I answered: ‘No, it’s my money. It stays there.’ For the thought of -his exploiting my deformity still rankled. Well, again I won. This time -Josef was crazy. He tried to take up the money himself, but I appealed -to the croupiers. The _chef de table_ said: ‘The money is madame’s. I -saw her put it down. Monsieur has no right to touch it.’ - -“Josef was foaming. He said, ‘But madame is my wife. What’s hers is -mine.’ The _chef_ shrugged his shoulders; ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘that is -the law in France, but here you are in the Casino of Monte Carlo, and -that money is madame’s.’ - -“By this time the wheel had spun again. Again rouge. I had three -thousand two hundred francs on the table. The crowd began to gather -and every one to take sides, some with my husband, some with me. -Meantime the stake remained. Once more the ball spun round. Rouge! - -“I had now six thousand four hundred francs on the table, four hundred -more than the maximum; and I refused to touch it. I threw the four -hundred on the next division of the table which happened to be impair. -Rouge--impair came up. I simply could not lose, however hard I tried. -People were coming from other tables to watch us. Josef had gone white -as a sheet and was speechless. He seemed paralyzed. I had now twelve -thousand eight hundred. I could see the croupiers were pleased that I -was winning, for that sort of thing is a great advertisement for the -Casino. I shifted my eight hundred to the division higher up,--manque, -I think, and put the six bills of a thousand on impair. I had now six -thousand on rouge; six thousand on impair and eight hundred on manque. -Once more the ball spun. This time I myself was quite excited. I felt -my heart beat. The place began to swim. Then like a person in a dream, -I heard the croupier say: - -“‘Twenty-seven, rouge, impair and passe.’ - -“The spell was broken; I had lost the eight hundred I had put on manque -but I had won the other two. Twenty-four thousand francs were mine in -the space of ten minutes. I simply fainted....” - -“Did you like Monte Carlo?” asked Margot. - -“I did and didn’t. It’s a dangerous place, a wicked place. But, so -beautiful! After that experience we came away. Josef was sick of it and -swore he would never gamble again. We bought this café and here I have -been for fifteen years.” - -“It seems to me I should like to go there,” said the girl dreamily. - -“Don’t ever go. It’s no place for poor people. And yet I have heard -there are lots of women who make a living there.” - -The subject dropped, but Margot was strangely interested and again -and again referred to it. Monte Carlo seemed to her like some strange -exquisite jewel glittering in a setting of sky, sea and mountain. It -held her imagination. It became part of her dreams. - -The next time she met Popol her heart beat painfully; but there was -nothing in his face to inspire fear. He was polite, almost ingratiating. - -“Mademoiselle, I apologize for my rudeness the other day. As a peace -offering let me beg your acceptance of this....” - -He held out a silver bag, which no doubt he had taken from one of his -wretched girls. Margot shook her head. - -“No, it’s not necessary. I’ll excuse you if you wish, but I don’t want -to accept any present.” - -“No? Then will mademoiselle do me the honour to dine with me this -evening?” - -“No, I cannot. I am not free.” - -“Oh, I will beg madame, your aunt, to release you.” - -“Thank you; but you must excuse me. I do not want to dine with any one.” - -He repeated this offer several times. He had never failed with a girl -before and his vanity was stung. From coaxings he came to threats. - -“I’ll get you yet, you little devil, you,” he told her. “Even if I have -to kidnap you, I’ll get you yet.” - -There was a deadly certitude about Popol that made his threats -impressive. Her fear of him became such an obsession that she would not -go outside after dark. She told the Mère Tranquille she wanted to leave -the quarter, but the hunchback laughed away her fears. - -“Wait a little longer, my dear. I expect to sell the business any day. -Then we’ll have a villa in the country. We will grow our own salads and -receive the rector in the _salon_. None will dream we ever lived in -this _pourriture_ of Paris.” - -“You will take me with you, madame?” - -“Yes, you shall be my adopted daughter. Then I will marry you to the -village butcher and you shall have a lovely little daughter called -Denise, after me.” - -The girl made a grimace. “I don’t want to marry a butcher.” - -“Fastidious one! Whom do you want to marry?” - -“A poet.” - -“Sentimental little fool! I suppose you’re thinking of that Florent -Garnier who comes here and spends so much time staring at you.” - -“Oh, madame! He never looks at me!” - -“You think so. Sly one! Why, my dear, he’s head over heels in love -with you. A good-for-nothing socialist, too. Take my advice, Poulette, -love’s all very well, but it’s money that counts in the long run.” - -Margot had indeed an unexpected ally in Florent Garnier. He was -tall, strong, and dark, a carpenter by trade. Every day he took his -after-dinner coffee in the bar. There he would sit quietly reading a -book and smoking cigarettes. One day he said to her: - -“Listen, Margot. If that dog of a Popol tries to molest you, let me -know. I’ll do him up; make a hospital case of him. See!” - -“Oh, no! I wouldn’t like you to have any trouble on my account.” - -“Trouble! An exquisite pleasure. Look here, Margot.... Won’t you come -with me to the cinema some night?” - -“No, thank you. I never go out with any one.” - -“I know you don’t. That’s why I ask you. Well, I won’t press you. You -may change your mind. In any case, I’m watching, and if you need a -protector I’m here.” - -The girl was touched, but at the same time embarrassed. She did not -care enough for Garnier to be more than a comrade to him, and something -told her this would be difficult. He could not comprehend that coldness -of temperament, which was her English heritage, and made her able to -be friendly with a man while keeping a barrier between them. Garnier -was from the south, romantic, hotblooded. He would never be able to -understand. She decided to keep him at a distance, though she liked him -immensely. - -The conflict between him and Popol came sooner than she expected. -There was a big strike of the carpenters, and Florent Garnier was an -executive. Though he was very busy addressing meetings and spent most -of his time at the _Bourse du Travail_, nevertheless he often came into -the bar to rest for half an hour over a cup of coffee. - -It was on an afternoon in early Spring. Madame had gone out and Margot -was alone behind the bar. In a dusky corner Florent Garnier sat silent. -He looked tired and worried. The strike was not going well. The patrons -were getting outside labour; something had to be done. - -Everything was bright and shining. The zinc counter was polished to -look like silver, the glasses to resemble crystal. Outside there was a -flutter of green leaves and the chirping of sparrows. It was a year -since Margot had come to Paris. On the whole it had been a happy year. -As an education it had been priceless. Now she knew the city and its -perils and was armoured against its temptations. She was equipped to -fight the battle. She was feeling unusually gay and sang as she waited -for customers. - -Popol entered. “Ha! mademoiselle. You are alone. You may give me a -_picon citron_.” - -While she was pouring it out he caught her hand. Angrily she wrenched -it away. - -“Ah! my pretty one,” he sneered. “When are you going to be my -sweetheart?” - -The exclamation of disgust was no sooner out of her mouth than Florent -Garnier was on his feet. He came forward deliberately, and lifting the -glass dashed the dark liquor in Popol’s face. - -For a moment Popol drew back. He wiped his eyes, and glared with -surprise and rage; he fumbled at his belt, and made a swift dart at -Garnier. But the powerful artizan was prepared. Swinging a chair round -his head he brought it crashing down. Popol crumpled up and lay still. - -“Did you see him?” said Garnier coolly. “The dog had a knife in his -hand; he would have stuck me. He has got his medicine. Leave him alone. -He’ll come round. I’ll take his knife though.” - -When Popol got up, he did not seem much the worse; but his yellow face -was convulsed and he was as vindictive as poison. - -“I’ll fix you yet,” he cried. “I’ll pay you both with interest, you and -your lover. And before many days are over. Look out!” - -“Did you hear him?” said Garnier when Popol had gone. - -“Yes. He frightens me terribly.” - -“You needn’t fear. You heard him call me your lover. Listen, Margot ... -let me be your lover, your husband. You need some one to protect you. I -tell you we’ll be happy....” - -“I know, Florent. I’ve thought of it a lot, but I can’t.--I like -you.--There’s none I like so well--But I don’t love you. Wait awhile. -I’ll try to love you. I really will....” - -Garnier went sadly away, and some days passed without his returning. -Margot became anxious. Then one afternoon Popol entered. Fortunately -the Mère Tranquille was in the bar with her. - -“Ha! Ha!” said Popol. “He’s been arrested, that pig of a sweetheart of -yours. Interfering with the strikebreakers. It’s to me he owes it, too. -He’ll get a year sure. And I haven’t finished yet. It’s your turn next -time.” - -“Get out of this,” cried madame, “or I’ll smash your face with a -bottle.” She brandished one ready to throw, and Popol with another -exultant laugh backed out of the door. - -“You mustn’t be afraid of him,” said the Mère Tranquille. - -“I am,--dreadfully. I want to go away. I really do.” - -“I tell you he shan’t harm a hair of your head.” - -“It isn’t only that, madame. You’ve been so good to me.... I’ll never -forget it, but I feel I have been here long enough. I don’t like -it,--the drinking, the men,--I want to be quiet. Before I came to Paris -I was learning dress-making. I want to go back to that, to live in a -world of women, and make a living by my needle.” - -“I quite understand,” said the Mère Tranquille. “Listen, my little -Margot. I’ve really come to love you like a daughter. You’ve changed so -wonderfully since you came here. You’ve learnt to laugh, to sing. I’ve -seen the woman dawning in you.... It’s finished, I’ve sold out at last. -I’m taking a little cottage in Normandy and you’re coming with me. I’m -lonely. I want you. You shall be my daughter.” - -“Can it be true?” - -“Yes. In another month it will all be arranged. Then no more Paris. -The blessed, green country, peace, comfort. I want you to take care of -me. I have been tired lately,--my heart. In another month,--say you’ll -come, Margot?” - -“It seems like a dream.” - -“You’ll come?” - -“Yes, yes! Would that it were to-morrow.” - -The two mingled their tears of happiness and from that day spent -their time in making plans for the future. The cottage was to have a -great garden, with apple and pear trees. They would keep rabbits and -chickens. How blessed the country seemed; how hateful the city! - -“Margot,” said the Mère Tranquille one day. “Go out this afternoon and -buy some clothes for the country. Here! take this bill of a hundred -francs. Just think of it! In another week we’ll be there.” - -The girl did think of it and it filled her with happiness. Yet all -the time she was going the round of the big shops she had a curious -foreboding that was realized as she returned to the shabby street. -Something was wrong; the little bar was closed, and a crowd hung around -the door. - -“What’s the matter?” - -A gendarme looked at her indifferently. - -“It’s the patronne. She dropped dead quite suddenly. Her heart they -say....” - -As she stared in a dazed fashion at the crowd, she saw the yellow face -of Popol. Terror filled her and she shrank away. Slipping into her room -by the back door, she bundled her few things into a bag and stealthily -left the house. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -THE BATTLE OF LIFE - - -She found a little room in that quarter of Paris known as the _Nation_. -It was bright and high, and open to the sky. During the year she had -worked in the bar she had saved a few hundred francs, and had no -immediate anxiety about the future. She decided that for a month she -would rest and make some new under-linen, of which she was sadly in -need. - -It was a very happy month for her. She was fond of solitude and loved -to dream. Sometimes she passed the long afternoons in the Parc de -Vincennes close to the water. As she sewed she would watch the children -at their play. A sweet emotion thrilled her. She pretended that she was -preparing her trousseau. Who was bridegroom to be? Ah! she could not -imagine. - -All along her street were makers of furniture, and the sight of their -workshops made her think of Florent Garnier. Poor fellow! He had been -given six months. She had read all about it in “_Humanité_.” - -In these long sunny days she often wondered and worried about Cécile. -At last she wrote to her grandmother. The old woman, who could not use -a pen, replied through a neighbour that her mother had gone to London -taking the little girl with her. That settled the matter. Margot gave -up all hope of seeing her sister again. - -As the weeks passed, and her nerves were tranquilized by the sweetness -of her life, she began to lose her fear of Popol. He became more and -more an evil dream. Once even she mustered up courage enough to go back -to the little bar. A fat red-faced man served her with a _petit noir_. -He did not recognize her, and a new sense of security filled her. - -Then one day as she sat sewing in the Place de la Nation close to the -fountain, she had a violent fright. Suddenly a voice behind her rose to -an exultant cry: - -“Well! Well! Here you are. I’ve found you at last.” - -She turned sharply. A man was looking at her in an ecstasy of -admiration. He was a tubby, rosy little man, distinguished only by a -waxed moustache and a white waistcoat. He was waltzing around her, and -rubbing his hands excitedly. Yet she was convinced she had never seen -him before. - -“Sit still, sit still, mademoiselle,” he cried. “_Sapristi!_ I’ve been -looking all over Paris for you. Allow me to introduce myself.” - -Instead of a card he handed her a small bottle. It contained a pink -liquid, and on its label she read wonderingly: - - +-------------------------------+ - | | - | Bruneau’s Brilliant Balm. | - | | - +-------------------------------+ - -“That’s it,” said the little man delightedly. “‘B.B.B.’ Hit ’em hard -with the ‘B.’ I’m Bruneau. It’s my invention. The finest hair lotion in -the world.” - -“But I don’t want it,” protested Margot. - -“No, but it wants you. I want you. Got to have you. I want you to -advertise the Balm. Sit with your back to the window; hair down, all -shining and brushed out. Bottles of the Balm arranged all about you. -Crowds in front of the window all the time. My place is on the Rue de -Rivoli. Come on, let’s come to terms.” - -“But, I don’t want to do that.” - -“My dear, there’s nothing to do. You just sit there from ten till -twelve and from two till five. You can sew, you can read if you like. -No one will see your face. You can forget there’s a crowd watching -you. It’s a soft thing, and I’ll pay you better than if you were doing -real work. Come now, twenty francs a day. You really have no right to -refuse.” - -“No,” she thought, “I have no right to refuse.” Then aloud, “Very well, -I’ll try it.” - -The following day she went to the hair-dresser’s shop and put herself -in the delighted hands of Monsieur Bruneau. The little man considered -himself an artist, as every man should, however humble his vocation. He -arranged Margot’s hair with reverence, washing, perfuming, and brushing -it until it was like a mantle of spun gold. - -When she took her place in the window, he placed a small mirror so -that she could see all the faces in the crowd without being seen -herself. This amused her. She never wearied of watching the thousands -of admiring eyes she saw reflected daily in the mirror. It gave her a -sense of pride, of elation. Over her was placed a placard which read: - - +--------------------------------------+ - | The most beautiful hair in Paris. | - | The result of using | - | Bruneau’s Brilliant Balm. | - +--------------------------------------+ - -As the days went by the little man with the waistcoat became more and -more enraptured. The Balm was selling so fast that he could not have -it bottled quickly enough. He was obliged to extend his laboratory, as -he called the back shop where it was prepared, and employ a traveller -selling it to the wholesale trade. He had also an advertising contract -with the newspapers. Then quite suddenly he lost his demonstrator. - -Margot was gazing idly at her little mirror, when she saw a face there -that seemed to stop the beating of her heart. It was a hairless yellow -face, with rattlesnake eyes. It was a cruel, cunning face set in a -malignant grin, the face of the hunter who has tracked his prey--Popol! - -As she left the shop he was waiting for her and walked along with her. - -“Aren’t you going to take me home with you?” he asked. - -She stopped. “Are you ever going to leave me alone?” - -“No,” he sneered, “I’ve been to too much trouble to find you. Listen, -little one. I want you. I’ve always wanted you since you stood me off. -Now I’m going to have you. No use your struggling. Popol always gets -what he wants. If I can’t get you by fair means, I’ll get you by foul. -With my pals I’ll carry you off some night. You are all alone now, no -one to defend you. If you make any trouble, I’ll simply kill you.” - -“Will you leave me? If you don’t stop talking to me, I’ll appeal to -this _sergent de ville_.” - -She went up to the policeman; he listened to her, twisting a huge -moustache that sprouted from a very red face. - -“Don’t worry, mademoiselle,” he said finally, “the monsieur only wants -to be amiable.” Yet, he waved a warning hand at Popol. - -Popol crossed to the other side of the street and Margot hurried on. -But no matter how fast she walked, how many sharp turns she took or how -many side streets she entered, Popol was always there. How could she -get rid of him? Just as she was at her wit’s end she found herself at -an entrance of the Métro. Quick as a flash she darted down the steps. - -A train was at the station and she jumped into a first class carriage. -The sliding door closed; she had given him the slip. - -But at the next station he got into her coach. He had caught the last -of the second class carriages. He grinned at her from the other side -of the compartment, but did not speak. She despaired of being able to -shake him off; she was helpless. - -When they stopped at the next station she was standing close to the -door; near her was a white-haired old gentleman with the Legion of -Honour in his button hole. As the train was starting again, she -suddenly cried: - -“_Mon Dieu!_ it’s my station. Let me get off.” - -The automatic doors were already closing but the old man held them -back. “Quick, madame.” She slipped between them and they shut behind -her like a trap. She was safe on the platform. She saw Popol make -frantic efforts to get off and an irate official who was only too glad -of an opportunity to assert his authority, push him back. As the train -glided into the tunnel she had a parting glimpse of his face snarling -with rage. - -She took a return train and hurried home. She could not go back to -Bruneau’s, she decided, but must seek other work. The next morning she -did not stir from the house, and about midday the little hair-dresser -called, anxiety written on his face. He begged, he coaxed; but to all -his entreaties she was deaf; he went away disconsolate. - -She had been working for nearly two months and had saved over five -hundred francs. She could afford to wait a few days before looking -for something else to do. She felt very happy, very safe up her six -flights of stairs. Very much like a bird, so near the sky! She sang -in the sunshine. Taking her work she seated herself at the window and -looked down into the street. Then quickly she shrank back. There on -the opposite pavement was Popol. He was looking up and had seen her. -Fool that she was to think she could evade him. Of course he had got -her address at the hair-dresser’s. There was no escaping him. At least -she would make another attempt. That night, seeing that the coast was -clear, she hurried to the Gare de Lyon and took a ticket for a station -selected at random. It turned out to be a remote village in the Jura. - -Every morning she awakened to the mellow sound of cow-bells, and -standing at her window breathed the pure, delicious air. Beyond the -mountain was Switzerland. She longed to go further, to travel. If ever -she had money enough she would go to the south, to the sunshine, to -Monte Carlo. She would try her luck. Perhaps she would be as successful -as the Mère Tranquille had been. When her money came to an end, she -returned to Paris with memories of huge green valleys, of crystal -brooks, and of deep solemn pine woods. - -The next year was a very hard and checkered one. She first got a -place in the workshop of a big dress-maker,--Plumeau’s. She had not -been there long when one evening Monsieur Plumeau called her into his -private office. He was a white-haired old man, very well-dressed. He -told her politely that it was the privilege of his prettiest employées -to dine with him occasionally. He called the directress. - -“Select for Mademoiselle a robe that suits her,” he then said to the -girl. “We will have dinner to-night at the Café de Paris.” He seemed -to take it for granted she would accept, and was quite amazed when she -walked out with head held high. He shrugged his shoulders. - -“So much the worse,” he said. “Dismiss her.” - -Margot was given an envelope with her week’s pay and told to look for -another place. - -It was more difficult to find this time, for she had no reference -from Plumeau’s. She was forced finally to seek employment in a great -barrack-like building that employed three thousand girls. It was the -workshop of one of the great stores on the Boulevard Haussmann, and -was conducted with military severity. Her hours were from eight in the -morning until a quarter past six in the evening. The work was hard and -monotonous; the pay just enough to cover her simple living expenses. - -For long months she slaved with her needle, never getting ahead. She -became shabby, tired, faint-hearted. When her holiday of ten days came -around she had not enough money to go away and spent the time in her -room. There were girls around her coquettishly dressed, with men who -waited for them every evening. That was all right; nobody minded a -girl having an _ami_ who helped her. There were some, however, more -elegantly clad who were considered scarcely respectable. Of such a one -it was whispered: “_Elle fait sa tappe sur le Boulevard_.” Margot made -no friends amongst the other girls and was always alone. - -So passed a year; then to her delight she got a position with a -milliner on the Boulevard Saint Michel. Over the door was the name, -“Folette.” Everybody stopped to look at the window, her hats were so -dainty, so daring. She was renowned for her _chic_, and even sober -men whose interests were far removed from feminine millinery, stopped -and stared at her latest creations. Below the shop was the workshop. -The girls sat on either side of a long table with boxes of feathers, -ribbands, flowers beside them. They sewed, pieced, and basted, -chattering happily the while. From time to time Madame Folette would -descend to criticise and give suggestions; she encouraged them to -develop their own ideas, to be creative. - -The girl had been there eighteen months, when, one day, Madame Folette -descended to the _atelier_. - -“Margot, I want to speak to you.” - -“Yes, madame.” - -“How would you like to serve in the shop? I want a saleswoman to assist -me. You have learnt all there is to learn in the making of hats. You -should now learn to sell them.” - -“Madame is too kind.” - -“Not at all. I have chosen you, because you are the prettiest girl -in the _atelier_. You have the most beautiful hair I ever saw. You -will buy a nice-fitting black-silk dress, black-silk stockings and -little slippers of black patent leather. Black will show off your soft -complexion and your pale gold hair.” - -Margot hastened to express her joy and the change was made. By day she -dusted and arranged the stock and waited on the customers in the white -panelled little shop usually flooded with sunshine. She was very happy. -At night she returned to her tiny room under the mansarde of a house on -the Boulevard du Montparnasse. Her window opened on a small balcony -where she grew sweet peas and nasturtiums. She had a gay canary that -came out of its cage and hopped on her finger. She cooked dainty dishes -in snowy enamel ware. It was quite a radiant little interior. - -She was more than usually happy one Sunday, and sang as she dressed. -She had an engagement with a girl called Jeanne, who was _premier_ at -the _atelier_ of Madame Folette. The two had decided to take a little -shop on the Boulevard below, and start in business for themselves. -Jeanne was a steady, clever girl who thoroughly understood the running -of a workshop. She was to make the hats, Margot to sell them. They -had savings enough to start. Margot was thinking over their plans and -singing happily when the laundress arrived with her week’s washing. As -she took it from the parcel she noticed an odour of phenol. - -“What a horrid smell,” she thought. Then she changed the sheets on her -bed, and went off forgetting all about it. - -The week passed as usual, but towards its end Margot began to feel -strangely tired. She struggled with her growing fatigue for two days, -then Madame Folette said to her: - -“Margot, you’re looking ghastly. What’s the matter?” - -“I don’t know, madame. I am so cold I shiver all the time.” - -“You had better go home and go to bed.” - -“Very well, madame. No doubt I will be better to-morrow.” - -On the morrow Margot was worse, and within two days she had to ask -the concierge to call the doctor. He looked a little puzzled when he -examined her, but prescribed a treatment, and said he would call again -later. On his third visit a curious red rash covered her. - -“Hum!” he said, “I’m afraid it’s scarlet fever.” - -On his next visit he was still more puzzled and asked her many -searching questions. He went away looking very serious indeed. All that -day Margot waited, anxious and unhappy. The red spots developed in the -strangest manner. When the doctor returned late at night and saw them -something like a shudder passed over him. He drew on his gloves hastily. - -“There’s nothing to do, mademoiselle. I am going to the Institute -Pasteur. They will send an ambulance first thing in the morning. You -are lucky that I can get you in. You will get better attention there -than anywhere else.” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“You mustn’t worry. It is most unfortunate. It must have been those -clothes from the laundry. I am going straight to the police. Please -wait patiently till the ambulance comes. Don’t be alarmed.” - -“But, doctor, tell me, for the love of God! What have I got?” - -He looked around as if to be sure there were no listeners, then said -slowly: - -“My poor girl, I may be mistaken but I think it’s....” - -She gazed at him with eyes that were strained with horror. - -“Oh, no, doctor, don’t tell me it’s _that_....” she gasped. - -But the physician had gone and she fell back on her bed. She was dazed. -It was unthinkable. Then as her mind began to grasp the truth, despair -fell on her. - -“Oh, it’s cruel,” she moaned. “I have worked so hard and kept honest, -yet everything goes against me. I ask so little, yet always when I am -about to better myself, something terrible happens. Oh, Life, Life! -You’re hard on me ... you’re hurting me so....” - -What was the use of struggling? She would let herself die. If only she -had some veronal she would take a fatal dose.... - -“But, no,” she cried, courage coming back to her. “I’ve fought all -along and I’ll die fighting. I’ll laugh to the end.... I will be the -victor....” - -Worn out she sank into a troubled sleep. - -When she woke it was to hear her little clock strike two. How long the -night was! Would the dawn never come? The dawn with the ambulance! -What was that about an ambulance? No, it was all a dream, an evil -dream--what the doctor had told her. She would sleep again. She was so -tired, so tired.... - -Was that something moving out in the hall? The house was very quiet. -What strange fancies she had. She must be going mad.... Was that fancy -again?--that noise outside? And there ... her door was opening very -softly. No, she was not mad. It was really moving. With straining eyes -she watched.... A dark form filled the doorway, and a man’s figure -slipped into the room. She stifled a scream of terror. - -Her chamber was lit by a small night-lamp turned very low, but she knew -only too well that large yellow, hairless face. Popol! This was another -of these evil dreams. Then she heard him speak. - -“Well, my pretty one, at last.” - -He looked at her, his face full of gloating triumph. He locked the -door, and gave a chuckling laugh. - -“Now I’ve got you, my chicken. Ha! Ha! no one gets away from Popol. -He’s sure, is Popol. Once he gets on the trail he never gives up. It’s -been a long trail, my beauty, but now....” - -Suddenly his voice grew thick with fury. - -“Now I’ll teach you who’s your master. You’ll be glad to kiss my dirty -boots before I’ve done with you. Ah, you needn’t squeal for help. No -one will hear you; I’ve planned well. I have taken the room next to -yours. Been there since Saturday. There are no other neighbours, and -the people in the flat below are in the country. You are absolutely at -my mercy,--in my power.” - -He was in no hurry. From behind his ear he took a cigarette and lit it -at the little night-lamp. The girl watched him, fascinated as a bird -is by a snake. He enjoyed her terror, and prolonged it. Then passion -seized him. He gripped her by the arm. At last she found her voice. - -“No, no,” she gasped. “Spare me. Have pity. I will give you all the -money I have. Here! Take this!” - -From under her pillow she drew her purse and thrust it at him. He -snatched it with a laugh, looked inside, and put it carefully in his -pocket. - -“That’s all right,” he jeered; “I expect you’ll make lots more for me -in days to come. Yes, I’ll have your money, and, by God, I’ll have you -too....” - -With a leap he had her in his powerful grip and the struggle began. He -held her arms so that she could not move them, and pressed his coarse -lips to her face. At their touch madness seized her. She bit fiercely -into the flabby fold of his cheek. With a snarl of pain he released her. - -“You little devil, I’ll kill you for this.” - -Once more he sprang at her, held her down. She felt her strength leave -her. She could resist no more. She was fainting.... Then suddenly she -remembered.... - -“Stop!” she cried; “Stop for your own sake! Can’t you see I’m ill? -Can’t you see what is the matter?” - -Something in her voice arrested him. He drew back. There was a long -tense pause. Slowly he turned up the light. Then ... he grew limp with -terror. He looked closely and shrank back. - -“No, no,” he gasped hoarsely. “Not that?” - -“Yes, that!” she screamed. “And now you’ll have it too. Oh, brute, -brute! You can kill me if you like. I have had my revenge. They’re -coming with the ambulance, coming even now. You hear, it’s the -_smallpox_, you dog! The smallpox....” - -But Popol did not want to kill her. Gazing at her with horror-stricken -eyes he backed to the door. - -“Yes,” she exulted, “You can kiss me now. It will make more sure, or -rather see.... I am coming to kiss you.” - -She made a move as if to rise and follow him but he did not wait. -He reeled through the door, pulling it to behind him. She heard him -stumbling down the dark narrow stairs, blubbering like a child. - -“Oh, it’s awful,” he cried. “I can’t stand it. I’m not a sound man. It -will kill me. It will kill me.” - -And Popol was right. It did. - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -PHANTOM FORTUNE - - -1. - -As she shrank back into the remote corner of the first class -compartment, Margot sighed profoundly. She had been thinking of the -strange events of the past month and of the bewildering turn in her -fortunes. - -When she had been released from the hospital, some three months before, -she was still very weak. During her illness a religious sisterhood had -nursed her with devotion; a famous physician had personally attended -her; a great Institute had exhausted its skill in her behalf. She was a -record case, they said,--not a trace of the disease showed. She wanted -to return to Folette’s and begin work at once, but Madame would not -hear of it. “No, my dear, you’re too shaky. You need a good long rest -in the country, two months at least. If you have no money I will lend -you some.” - -So Margot borrowed five hundred francs and went to Barbizon. There in -a cottage on the edge of the forest, she slowly regained her strength. -Then she returned to Paris. - -One afternoon, a few days before she had arranged to return to the -_modiste’s_, she decided she would like to visit the grave of the Mère -Tranquille. Once more she sought the little bar on the Rue du Belville. -As she entered she had a curious feeling that she had never been -away; the fat red-faced man was still reading a paper behind the zinc -counter. When she asked where her old friend was buried, he put down -his paper and stared at her. - -“You don’t happen to be the girl who worked here?” - -“Yes, monsieur.” - -“Margot Leblanc?” - -“The same, I assure you.” - -The fat man brought down his fist with a thump on the counter. - -“_Sapristi!_ Why, every one thinks you are dead. The lawyers sought you -high and low; you seemed to have vanished off the earth. Didn’t you -know the old woman left you a heritage?” - -“No. Is it true?” - -“Assuredly. Not much; but to a girl like you, it will be very welcome. -Here, I’ll give you the address of the lawyers and you can go and see -them at once.” - -She lost no time. The result was that in due course she received her -legacy. After settling all expenses and paying every debt, she found -herself the possessor of a little over three thousand francs. Never -before had she owned anything like such an amount. To her it seemed -riches. At first she thought she would carry out her plan of taking a -little shop with Jeanne. But the winter was coming on, the cold, grey, -cruel winter; time enough for the little shop in the spring. A sudden -distaste for Paris possessed her. Then one day as she was passing the -window of a tourist agency she stopped to stare at a vivid poster -depicting a sea of turquoise blue, a terraced town that seemed carved -from ivory, a background of amethystine mountain, palms, pigeons, -gorgeous flowers. Underneath was the name--_Monte Carlo_. It came like -an inspiration; she would go there. With a sense of great daring she -packed her basket-valise, said good-bye to Madame Folette and Jeanne, -and took the train. - - -2. - -As she sat alone in the corner of her compartment, these events passed -through her mind and she sighed deeply. She felt very lonely, rather -frightened. She blamed herself for having bought a first class ticket -at Marseilles, but the journey in the crowded second class from Paris -had so fatigued her that she had decided to be extravagant. - -Even in her jaded state the scenery seemed to her to be of dreamlike -beauty. It was not until Nice had been reached that its too exorbitant -claims on her admiration began to weary her. They must be very close -now. It was long, that journey, especially when one has been so ill. -She must tidy up a bit. She rose and began to arrange her hair, that -stupid hair of which she had so much. It tumbled turbulently down and -she had to take out all her hair-pins and let it fall around her like -a golden shower. As she looked up apprehensively, she saw a young -man staring at her from the corridor. She was vexed. She caught the -mutinous tresses hurriedly and bunched them around her head. When she -had finished with her pins and combs, she looked around again. The -young man had gone. - -She liked the _Pension_ which had been recommended to her, because -every one left her alone. The first day she gave to exploring the -gardens and getting her bearings; the second she presented herself -at the Casino and asked for a card. Fortunately, she had been warned -that on no account must she divulge the fact that she worked. -It is significant that a woman who earns her living honestly is -refused admission to the Casino while a prostitute is welcomed. The -administration knows that the small wage-earner brings little grist to -their mill, while the demi-mondaine plays their game. Margot filled in -her application with the usual phrase: “_Sans occupation_.” - -Although she had made up her mind to gamble she was more than -prudent. For the first week she did nothing but watch the tables with -concentrated attention; then she bought a note-book with shiny covers -and began to take down numbers. She would stand by a table for two or -three hours, until her column of figures was quite a long one. Then, -finding a quiet seat in the Café de Paris, she would sip a cup of -chocolate and study them. She felt encouraged by the fact that a number -of women, with negligible capital, were undoubtedly making a living at -the Casino. Shabby, anxious creatures she saw them hovering like hawks -over the tables, waiting to get in on “a safe thing,” and going away -finally with a few pieces of gain. They had lived thus for years. - -“Surely,” she thought, “with two thousand francs of capital, I can win -a louis a day.” - -The next step was to make up her mind how she would play. She must -adopt a method, and concentrate on it. After long reflection she -decided that the most cautious way of playing was to stake on two -of the three dozens. In this way she would only have one dozen -against her. From the examination of her figures, and the columns of -permanencies published in a paper whose colour was the green of hope, -she found that the first dozen seemed to come a little less frequently -than the other two, and that it had a greater tendency to repeat. Here -was a hint for her. She would wait until the first dozen had asserted -itself strongly, then, as it were, retired exhausted. She would put -five francs on the second and five francs on the third dozen. She would -be covering thus twenty-four of the thirty-six numbers. If either -of her two dozens won, she would receive fifteen francs, a gain of -five francs. As soon as she had won four times, and had made a louis, -she would stop. She furthermore decided that she would always play -a flat stake, and would never make a progression. In the long run a -progression was always fatal. If she lost a louis on any one day, she -would stop for that day and not court disaster by trying to retrieve -her losses. - -As she pressed through the crowd and put her first stake on the table, -she felt her heart beat wildly. She thought every one was watching her. - -“Here is a new one,” she imagined them saying. “Another poor little -chicken come to be plucked. Look how her hand trembles as she puts her -two white counters on the table. One would imagine she was playing for -thousands.” - -But after all every one was absorbed in the game, and no one paid any -attention to her. The ball spun around. She had won. - -“Ah!” she thought, “it is always specially arranged that the beginner -wins.” - -And she played again with more confidence. The player has the advantage -over the bank in that he may select his moment of play. (Unfortunately -he generally selects the wrong moment.) Margot waited for what seemed -to her a favourable moment and staked again. Again she won. Her second -and third coups were equally successful. She was strangely elated, -far more so than the extent of her gain really warranted. She had been -excited and anxious before, now a happy reaction set in. She changed -the white counters she had gained for a twenty franc bill, which she -regarded with a rare pleasure. How strange to make money so easily! -Playing as prudently as this it did not seem possible to lose. Just -think! if she had only played with louis-stakes instead of five franc -ones.... Or even with hundred franc placques.... A sudden vision of -fortune dazzled her. “If....” Ah! that pregnant “if” that gamblers use -in victory and defeat. The tragedy of that “if.” The virus was already -in her veins, and she went home to dream of whirring roulette wheels -and the smiles of fortune. - -She awaited the second day with a passion of eagerness. But alas! -things did not go so well. When she had made three wins she had a loss. -With chagrin she watched her two pieces swept away. She was now only -one ahead. She won her next three coups, however, and retired with her -louis of gain. - -The third day she had a hard fight. It was as if the Casino had said: -“Tut! Tut! we must not let this slip of a girl get our money so easily. -We must begin to baulk her a bit.” - -She played all morning and afternoon, winning and losing, and winning -again. Try as she would, she could not get them to give her a louis. -At seven o’clock she retired from the fight, only a poor five francs -the winner. She was fearfully tired, her head ached, and the smile of -fortune seemed transformed into the wryest of grins. - -The fourth day she had no trouble and her confidence came back. But -the fifth ... the first dozen came up seven times running and broke to -the third. By all the laws of average it was due to rest a bit and -allow the equilibrium to establish itself. It was, therefore, with a -confidence almost insolent, that the girl staked on the second and -third dozen. She was so sure of winning that she felt as if the money -were already in her hands, and did not even wait to watch the spinning -wheel. She had reached down to secure her winnings when to her surprise -she saw both her stakes being raked in. The number two had declared -itself. - -Next time it would come right, and again she staked on the second and -third dozen. She waited almost listlessly. To her dismay she saw her -stakes swept off a second time. There must be a mistake.... No, the -ball was resting in the slot marked twelve. - -She sat down on one of the leather-padded lounges. It was not the -money she had lost that worried her, but the fact that her system had -proven untrustworthy. She hated to be beaten like that. A mixture -of resentment and anger dominated her,--a mood most dangerous to a -gambler. She rose, and going back to the table put one louis on the -second dozen and another on the third. She won. She had regained all -that she had lost. - -She did not play any more that day. She went to the Café de Paris, and, -having ordered a jug of chocolate, sat down to think. It was evident -that to gain four straight wins every day, was too great a strain on -her system. Well, then, instead of playing four coups with five francs -each time, why not play a single coup with a louis for the stake? In -this way she would not tire herself out with long play, nor exhaust her -luck. Accordingly the next day she began playing on these lines. - -For a time all went well. She found that with average luck she won -three times out of four. Then a spell of bad luck set in, and in spite -of the care with which she played she found her gains were reduced to -two out of three. This left her no profit. She must do something to -raise her average. She thought the matter over. If she had to have a -certain proportion of losses, why not let them be fictitious ones? Why -not let her losses be made with imaginary stakes and her gains with -real ones? She made up her mind that, playing with her usual care, she -would wait until she had lost twice in her head, before playing on the -table a third time for a win. It needed lots of patience; often she had -to wait for two hours before her chance came, but with this method she -won three times out of four. However to develop a system in theory and -put it into practice are two very different things. To play a system -one must be as emotionless as a machine; systems make no allowance for -human passion and impulse, and this she soon found to her cost. - -It happened one day that, when she went to the Rooms in the afternoon, -she staked as usual a louis on the second and another on the third -dozen, after having watched the wheel for awhile. The number eleven -came up. Now according to her system she should have called her day -a loss and gone home. But on this particular afternoon her mood was -mutinous. She determined to try again. She re-staked in the same -fashion, and the eleven repeated. She was furious with herself for -being so weak and foolish. It would take her four days to regain her -losses. It was too tedious, too discouraging. Well, it could not be -helped now. She walked to the door, but just as she reached it she -hesitated. Her irritation grew. No, she would _not_ let them beat her. -Going back to the table she fumbled in her bag and drew forth two -notes of a hundred francs each. She handed them to the croupier. - -“Second and third dozen, please.” - -She was strangely calm now, but she could not bear to see the ball -spin. She turned and went to another table, pretending to watch the -play there. She forbade herself to look back, then when she heard -the ball drop, she glanced round. The croupiers were cleaning up the -tables, but the rake swung clear of the hundred francs she had put on -the middle dozen. She had won. - -Again she snatched victory from defeat. She had retrieved her losses -and had a louis to boot. But strange to say she felt no elation. She -had been reckless and risked two hundred francs. It must not happen -again, she told herself. - -It was soon evident that if her average wins were three out of four, -with a stake of two louis, and she made only one coup, her gains -would only aggregate five francs a day. That would never do. After -much reflection and analysis of her figures, she decided to play with -placques of a hundred francs each. In this way she would gain a hundred -francs every four days; and even, if she allowed five francs for a -possible zero every time she played, she would still make her louis a -day. This was the plan she finally adopted. Her system, in short, was -to play only a flat stake, never a progression. She played only one -coup a day, stopping if she lost, and took two fictitious losses before -actually playing on the table. She played a hundred francs on the -second, and a hundred francs on the third dozen after an exhausted run -of the first dozen. She put five francs on zero. - -It was very much like hard work, and needed both patience and judgment, -but it was possible for her to go on playing this system for six -months without mishap, and in the end just about even up. - - -3. - -One day as she was eating a hurried luncheon she noticed a young man -reading by the window. His hair was ash blonde, brushed glossily back, -his face thin, sensitive, and browned by the sun. When he smiled at -Terese, the waitress, his teeth were milk-white, and very regular. -His eyes should have been blue, but were of a dark, velvety brown. An -extraordinary good-looking boy, she thought, with an air of refinement, -of race. He looked up and caught her eye; immediately she looked down. - -She had seen him before, she fancied, but where? Then she remembered -the young man who had stared at her in the train. It was strange she -should meet him again. - -She saw him often afterwards in the gardens, walking hatless, with -his head held high. He never went to the Casino, and seemed very gay -and happy. It was easy to see he was well off, and had not a care in -the world. Once he passed her as she was on her way to her room, but -shyness came over her and she did not glance at him. He looked so -proud; he must be at least the son of an English lord. Why then should -she, daughter of a French head-waiter and an English bar-maid, be even -on bowing terms with him? - -Then something happened that quite drove him out of her thoughts. For -ten days she had been playing her system without even a loss, gaining -nearly a thousand francs. Her winnings so far had more than paid her -modest expenses. When she entered the Casino on Christmas morning she -had four bills of a thousand francs each in her bag. She had also -a letter from Jeanne. Jeanne knew of such a nice little shop on the -Boulevard Raspail. It would be empty by the January term and, if Margot -was willing, they would each put in two thousand francs and take it. -Jeanne wanted an answer at once. Margot was very happy. She would tell -Jeanne to take the shop, and she herself would return to Paris shortly -after the beginning of the new year. She was sorry to think of leaving -Monte Carlo, and to give up roulette; the keen shifts and stresses of -the game intrigued her and she loved that moment of emotion just before -the ball dropped. Then the thought came to her: Why not experience -a moment of more intense emotion than she had ever known? She had a -thousand francs of the bank’s money that she did not absolutely need. -Why not risk it? If she could win with bills of a hundred, why not -with notes of a thousand? She watched the table until the opportunity -came. She placed five hundred francs on the second dozen, and five -hundred on the third, then with an air of unconcern fell to regarding -one of the pictures on the wall. It was a painting of Watteau-like -delicacy, representing autumn; falling leaves, gallants and ladies of -the court.... - - “_Rien ne va plus._” - -Would the ball never drop? She heard it knocking about among the -diamond-shaped brass projections. Then silence, and ... zero. - -Oh, what a fool she had been! For the first time in weeks she had -forgotten to cover zero. And for the first time in weeks she had -encountered it. She hated the calm croupier who raked in her thousand -francs. There was something so ruthless, so inexorable in the way he -did it. A dull rage filled her. She seemed to be impelled by something -stronger than herself. She took from her bag a second note of a -thousand francs and played it as before. No, she would not stake on -zero. The chances of it repeating were a thousand to one.... _Zero!_ -again! - -It could not be possible! As she saw another thousand swept away she -felt physically sick. She sat down on a lounge, dazed, stunned. The -impassive croupiers seemed suddenly to become mocking satyrs, the -great guilded hall, pitiless, cruel. She watched a little hunch-backed -croupier spin the wheel by its brass handle; he flipped the ivory -sphere in the other direction in a careless, casual manner. The girl -started up. It was as if she were an automaton, moved by some force -outside of her will. Taking a third thousand franc bill from her bag, -she staked it in the same way as before. No use to stake on zero this -time. The chance of its coming up a third time was a million to one. -She saw the ball go scuttling among the brass knobs; she heard a great -murmur from the gazing crowd; all eyes turned admiringly to the little -hunchback who tried to look as if he had done it on purpose.... ZERO! - -She walked away. A bitter recklessness had seized her. She took out her -remaining thousand franc bill. She would risk it anywhere, anyhow. A -red haired man was coming in at the door. That was an inspiration. She -would play on the red and leave it for a _paroli_. She went over to the -nearest croupier and handed him her bill. - -“Rouge, please.” - -But the croupier misunderstood. He put the bill on black, looking at -her for approval. After all, what did it matter? Let it remain on -black. She nodded and black it was. Once more the ball whizzed dizzily -round and dropped into its slot. Rouge. - -She had lost. In less than four minutes she had lost four thousand -francs. She pulled down her veil and walked out of the gambling rooms. -Her legs were weak under her and she felt faint. She sat down on a -bench in the atrium. It could not be true! She must have dreamt it. She -opened her hand-bag of shabby black leather and searched feverishly. -All she found was about thirty francs. - -She was broke. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -DERELICT - - -1. - -Then began the great struggle of Margot Leblanc to regain the money -she had lost. It was a pitiable, pathetic struggle, full of desperate -hope. Starting with ten francs, she sought to win back the two thousand -needed to buy the shop with Jeanne. She kept her room at the pension, -but gave up taking her meals there. Instead she had a cup of coffee and -a roll in a cheap café in the Condamine. She would do without sleep, -she told herself; she would be shabby and shiver with cold ... but she -would win back that money! - -Every morning she took her place among that weird and shabby mob of -women who storm the Casino doors at opening time, and scramble for -places at the tables, hoping to sell them in the afternoon to some -prosperous player. The Casino, which had been the cause of their ruin, -lets them thus eke out a miserable existence. Threadbare creatures with -vulturish faces, they hang over the tables, quick-clawed to clutch up -the stakes of the unwary. - -Margot was glad of every opportunity to make a little money by selling -her place. It meant the price of a square meal: spaghetti, and salad -and cheese, in a cheap Italian restaurant in Beausoleil. Otherwise, -when an increasing dizziness warned her that she had not yet broken -her fast, she had to seek a quiet corner of the gardens, and lunch on -a bit of chocolate and some bread. Then she would hurry back to the -Casino, fearful that in her absence a chance had come up to make a few -francs. - -It was a weary, anxious existence. Sometimes indeed she got down to -her last five francs before a sudden turn of luck exalted her again to -the heights of hope. The effect on her nerves was terrible. Her nights -became haunted. Roulette wheels whirled before her closed eyes and she -often dreamed of a mighty one that turned into a great whirlpool, in -which she and all the other players were spinning around helplessly. -And always, just as she was being sucked down into the vortex, she -awoke. - - -2. - -One evening as she sat in a corner of the gardens, silent and absorbed, -a man approached her. He was dark and weedy, and his eyebrows -twitched up and down continually. She recognized him as one of her -fellow-lodgers at the pension, and she had heard him addressed as -Monsieur Martel. After looking sharply at her, he took a seat by her -side. - -“Had any luck lately?” he asked with that freemasonry of gamblers that -permits of a promiscuous conversation. - -Silently she shook her head. - -He lighted a cigarette. “It’s a cruel game,” he observed. “God help -the poor pikers who haven’t enough capital to defend themselves. I had -a hard fight to-day. I was obliged to play a martingale up to five -thousand francs, all to win a wretched louis. But I got out all right. -I imagine you have not been very successful yourself lately. I have -seen you losing.” - -She nodded. He drew comfortably nearer. - -“Well, that’s too bad. By the way, if I can be of any help to you, give -you any advice.... I have a considerable knowledge of the game....” - -She laughed bitterly. “I, too, Monsieur, have a considerable knowledge -of the game. But there ... that is all the capital I have in the world, -ten francs.” - -She held out two white chips in her shabby, gloved hand. He noted the -smallness of the hand, and the glimpse of milk-white wrist between the -glove and the threadbare jacket. He drew nearer still. - -“Ah! it’s hopeless,” he said, “when one gets down so low. Why not let -me make you a loan? I shall never miss it. You can repay me out of your -winnings. Let me lend you a trifle, say five hundred.” - -She looked at him steadily for a moment. “But I have no security to -give you,” she said at last. - -He laughed easily. “Oh, that doesn’t matter. Of course, we are speaking -as one Monte Carloite to another. We understand each other. If I am -nice to you, you will be nice to me. My room at the pension is number -fourteen. If you come down and see me this evening I have no doubt we -can arrange matters.” - -She rose. In the shadow he could not see the loathing in her eyes. -These men ... they were all alike. Beasts! She left him without a word. - -He waited in his room that night, wondering if she would come. She did -not. He went off to the Casino laughing comfortably. Life was a great -game. - -“If it isn’t to-night,” he said to himself, “it will be to-morrow or -the day after. A little more hunger, a little more despair. I have but -to wait. She will come to me. If she doesn’t, what matter? There are -lots of others.” - - -3. - -Some days later she sat in her room staring at her face in the cheap -mirror. There were dark circles around her weary eyes. Her cheeks were -thinned to pathetic hollows, her mouth drooped with despair and defeat. -The Casino had beaten her. She was sick, weak, nervously unstrung. Try -as she would she could not get back her old healthy view of life; that -was the worst of it. Gambling had poisoned the very blood in her veins. - -She had no money to take her back to Paris, even if she were willing to -go, and she felt she would rather die than write and ask for help. Then -to take up the burden of labour again, the life of struggle without -hope and with misery to crown it all, ... Ah! she knew it so well. She -had seen too many of her comrades fight and fall. Must she too work -as they worked, until her strength was exhausted and she perished in -poverty? - -There was death, of course! Only last week a young girl, after pawning -all her trinkets, shot herself under the railway bridge. She would do -better than that; she had some little white powders. - -Then there was the compromise. Why not? Who under the circumstances -would dare to tell her that death was better than dishonour? And yet -... she hated to think of doing it. She preferred to steal. Funny, -wasn’t it? Her sense of morality was curious. She would rather be a -thief than a harlot. - -But she had no chance to be a thief. It would have to be the other -thing. Rising she put rouge on her ghastly cheeks then rubbed it off -again. No, not just yet! She would ask the young man for the five -hundred francs. If he demanded the _quid pro quo_ she would beg him to -wait until to-morrow. Then she would go to the Casino and risk all. -If she won she would return him his money, and say she had changed her -mind. If she lost ... well, there was the white powder.... - -She would ask him at once. How dark and silent the house was. Room -fourteen was on the floor below. Softly she crept down the shabby -stairs. She had to put on her cloak; she shivered so. - -That was his door. She hesitated, inclined to turn back. Perhaps he -had gone out. Her heart was beating horribly and the hand she put out -trembled. She knocked. There was no answer. Softly she tried the handle -of the door. - - -END OF BOOK ONE - - - - -BOOK TWO - -_The Story of Hugh_ - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - -THE UNHAPPIEST LAD IN LONDON - - -1. - -THE woman he used to call aunty kept a rooming house on Balmoral -Circus, and the boy’s earliest memories were of domestic drudgery. He -cleaned boots until nearly midnight, smudging with grimy knuckles his -sleepy eyes. He slept in a cupboard at the rear of the hall, along with -dirty brushes, smelly dusters and lymphatic cock-roaches. As he grew -taller he learned to make beds and to take care of the rooms. Aunty -nagged at him continually and he had to dodge occasional blows. - -She was an unwieldy woman with a tart tongue and tight varnished hair. -Every afternoon she would put on a battered bonnet and go forth for -what she called “a breff of fresh air.” She would return about five, -smelling of gin and very affable. He preferred her cuffs to her kisses. - -Uncle would come home at a quarter past six. He was a French-cleaner, -a monosyllabic man who loved his pipe. One evening he broke his stoic -silence. - -“Missis, it’s time that boy ’ad some schoolin’.” - -“Schoolin’! the ideer! And tell me ’oo’s goin’ to do the work of this -’ouse while he’s wastin’ ’is time over a lot o’ useless ’istry an’ -jography?” - -“I tell you, missis, he’s got to have some eddication. He’s goin’ on -for nine now and knows next to nothin’.” - -“Well, you know wot it means. It means payin’ some lazy slut of a -’ouse-maid sixteen bob a month.” - -“Well, and why can’t you pay it out of that five ’undred pounds ’is -mother gave you to look after ’im?” - -“’Eaven ’ear the man! And ’aven’t I looked after ’im? ’Aven’t I earned -all she gave me? ’Aven’t I bin a second muvver to ’im? Didn’t I nurse -’er like a sister, and ’er dyin’ of consumption? There ain’t many ’as -would ’ave done wot I did.” - -The difficulty of his education, however, was solved by the -second-floor back, Miss Pingley, who undertook to give him lessons for -two hours every day. She was the cousin of a clergyman and excessively -genteel, so that his manners improved under her care. - -Once he began to read his imagination was awakened. More than ever -he hated the sordid life around him. He began to think seriously of -running away, and would no doubt have done so, had not Uncle again -intervened. One evening the silent man laid down his pipe. - -“I’ve got a job for the boy, Missis. He begins work on Monday.” - -“Wot!” - -“I say get a gel for the work. That lad’s goin’ into business on -Monday.” - -“Well, I never!” - -“Yes, Gummage and Meek, the cheese people. You ’ear, Hugh?” - -“Yes, Uncle. Thank you, Uncle.” - -Aunty began to make a fuss, but Uncle promptly told her to shut up. As -for the boy the thought of getting away from dust pans and slop pails -was like heaven to him; so the following Monday, with beating heart, he -presented himself at the office of Gummage and Meek. - - -2. - -Mr. Ainger, the cashier, sat on his high stool, and looked down at a -slim lad, twisting a shabby cap. Mr. Ainger was a tall man of about -fifty, his hair grey, his face fine and distinguished. It was said that -in his spare time he wrote. - -“Well, my boy,” he said kindly, “what do you call yourself?” - -“Hugh Kildair.” - -The gaze of Mr. Ainger became interested. He noted the dark eyes that -contrasted so effectively with the light wavy hair, the sensitive -features, the fine face stamped with race. Centuries of selection, he -thought, had gone to the making of that face. - -“A romantic name. So, my boy, you are making a start with us. I don’t -know that it’s what you would choose if you had any say in the matter. -Probably, you’d rather have been a corsair or a cowboy. I know I would -at your age. However, very few of us are lucky enough to do the things -we’d like to do. Life’s a rotten muddle, isn’t it?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Well, my young friend, I do not know if the horizon of your ambition -is bounded by cheese, if it inspires you with passion, with enthusiasm. -Still you might have made a worse choice. You might have been in oils -and varnishes, for instance, or soap. Imagine handling those compared -with that exquisite ivory curd--transmuted by bovine magic from the dew -and daisies of the field. I tell you there’s romance in cheese; there’s -even poetry. I’m sure a most charming book could be written about it. -Pardon me, but you’re not by any chance thinking of writing a book -about cheese, are you?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Glad to hear it. Now I think of it I might as well do it myself,--a -whimsical Belloc-sort of book with glimpses of many lands. But there. -Let us return to the subject of your future. All I can say is: Do your -best; we’ll do the rest. Now go; and believe me, our discriminating -gaze is upon you.” - -In the years that followed, although he saw little of Mr. Ainger, he -was conscious of a protective and sympathetic eye. As for the work he -did not dislike it. It was pleasant in the cool gloom of the warehouse -where cheeses of all shapes and colours made strange lights and -shadows. He had more liberty too, than he would have had in the office. -He was able to make pen and ink sketches of his companions in his spare -moments. At the end of every month he handed over his pay to Aunty who -returned him a trifle for pocket-money. - -At the beginning of his fifth year his salary was raised to fifty -pounds. On the day he received his first instalment he did not return -to Balmoral Circus. Instead he went to a small room in Hammersmith, -carrying his few belongings in a cricket bag. He then wrote to Aunty, -saying he was “on his own,” and he would never see her again. - -At last, at last he was free. - - -3. - -How hard that first winter was! Fifty pounds went much further in those -days than it does now, but even then he had to go without many needful -things. An overcoat, for one. You can picture him a tall, thin pale -youth, with a woollen comforter and a shabby suit far too small for -him. He was often cold and hungry. A cough bothered him. - -One day Mr. Ainger came down to see him. - -“Hullo, young man. You haven’t written that book yet?” - -“No, sir.” - -“I am surprised. Assailed as you are by a dozen pungent odours do you -not realize that under the cork-trees of Corsica the goats browse on -the wild thyme in order that those shelves may be replenished with -green veined Roquefort; that cattle bells jingle in the high vivid -valleys of the Jura to make for us those grind-stone like masses of -cavernous Gruyère; sitting here are you not conscious of a rhythm -running through it all, of a dignity, even of an epic--cheese?” - -“Well,” he went on, “I’ve come to hale you from all this source of -inspiration to a more sordid environment. There’s a spare stool in the -counting-house I think you might ornament.” - -“I’ll be glad of a change, sir.” - -“Good. By the way, where are you living?” - -“Hammersmith, sir.” - -“Ah, indeed, I have a cottage on the river. You must come and see me.” - -A fortnight later he took Hugh to his little villa. It was the only -real home the lad had even seen, and was a revelation to him. Mrs. -Ainger was the first sweet woman he had ever met, and he immediately -worshipped her. There were two fine boys and a most fascinating library. - -The Aingers had a great influence on Hugh’s development. Through them -he met a number of nice fellows and instinctively picked up their -manners. He played football, cricket, and tennis,--at which games he -was swift and graceful, but somewhat lacking in stamina. He studied -French, and Mr. Ainger was at great pains to see that he had a good -accent. But best of all, he was able to attend an art school in the -evenings and satisfy a growing passion for painting. - -Then the war broke out. He went to France with the First Hundred -Thousand. In the wet and cold of the trenches he contracted pneumonia -and his recovery was slow. As soon as he was well again, he was -transferred to the transport service and drove a camion in the last -great struggle. When he was demobilized he returned to the office at a -comfortable salary. - -Everything looked well now, everything but his health. He suffered from -a chronic cold and was nearly always tired. - -Then one raw day in early Spring he saw a poor woman throw her child -over the Embankment. - -“She was quite close to me,” he told Mr. Ainger afterwards, “so of -course I went in. It was instinctive. Any other chap would have done -the same. - -“Well, I grabbed the kid and the kid grabbed me, and there I was -treading water desperately. But it was hard to keep afloat; and I -thought we must both go down. I remember I felt sorry for the little -beast. I didn’t care a hang for myself. Then just as I was about to -give up, they lifted us into a boat. There was a crowd and cheering, -but I was too sick to care. Some one took me home in a taxi and my -landlady put me to bed.” - -The chill that resulted affected his lungs. All winter he had fits of -coughing that made him faint from sheer exhaustion. He awoke at night -bathed in cold sweat. In the morning he was ghastly, and rose only by -a dogged effort. One forenoon, after a hard fit of coughing Mr. Ainger -said to him: - -“Cold doesn’t seem to improve.” - -“No, sir.” - -“By the way, ever had any lung trouble in your family?” - -“Yes, sir. My mother, I’ve been told, died of it.” - -“Look here, take the afternoon off and see our doctor.” - -The doctor was a little bald, rosy man. He looked up at Hugh’s nigh six -feet of gaunt weariness. - -“You’re not fit to be out, sir. Go home at once. I’ll see you there.” - -So Hugh went to his bed, and remained in it all summer. - - -4. - -One day in late October he lay on his bed staring drearily at the -soiled ceiling, and wondering if in all London there was a lad more -unhappy than he. - -“A lunger,” he thought bitterly. “Rotten timber! A burden to myself and -others. Soon I must take up the fight again and I’m tired, tired. I -want to rest, do nothing for a year or two. Well, I won’t give in. I’ll -put up a good scrap yet. I’ll----” - -Here a knock came at the door. It was the little doctor cheery and -twinkling. - -“Hullo! How’s the health to-day?” - -“Better, doctor; I’ll soon be able to go back to the office.” - -The doctor laughed: “If you remain in London another six months you’ll -be a dead man.” - -“What would you have me do?” - -“Go away. Live in a warm climate. Egypt, Algeria, the Riviera.” - -“And if I go away how long will I live?” - -“Oh, probably sixty years.” - -“Quite a difference. Well, doctor, I expect I’ll have to stick it out -here. You see, I’ve no money, no friends. Even now I’m living on the -charity of the firm. They’ve been awfully decent, but I can’t expect -them to go on much longer.” - -“Have you no relatives?” - -“None that I know of. I’m absolutely alone in the world.” - -“Well, well! We’ll see about it. Surely something can be done. Don’t -get down-hearted. Everything will come out all right.” - -The little doctor went away, and Hugh continued to stare at the soiled -ceiling. There came to him a desperate vision of palms and sunshine. -But that was not for him. He must stay in this raw bleak London and -perish as many a young chap had perished.... - -Next morning came another knock at the door. It was Mr. Ainger. - -“Well, my lad, how are you feeling?” - -“A little better. I hope I’ll soon be able to get back to my ledger.” - -“Nonsense, my boy! You’ll never come back. You’re expected to hand in -your resignation. The doctor holds out no hope. You can’t go on drawing -on your salary indefinitely.” - -Hugh swallowed hard. “No, that’s right. You’ve treated me square. I -can’t complain.” - -“Complain, I should say not; look here....” - -With that Mr. Ainger took from his pocket a sheaf of crisp Bank of -England notes and began to spread them out on the bed. - -“Twelve of them. Ten pounds each. All yours. We collected sixty pounds -in the office and the firm doubled it. And now you’re going to eternal -sunshine, to blue skies, to a land where people are merry and sing the -whole day long. You’ve escaped the slimy clutch of commerce. Gad! I -envy you!” - -“Do you really, sir?” - -“Yes. I wanted to live in Italy, Greece, Spain; to roam, to be a -vagabond, to be free. But I married, had children, became a slave -chained to the oar. One thing though,--my boys will never be square -pegs in round holes. They’ll have the chance I never had.” - -“Perhaps it’s not too late.” - -“No, perhaps not. Perhaps some day I’ll join you down there. Perhaps -when I get things settled, I’ll live under those careless skies -where living is rapture. I’ll get back by own soul. I’ll write that -book, I’ve tried all my life to write. Perhaps ... it’s my dream, my -dream....” - -Mr. Ainger turned abruptly and went out, leaving Hugh staring -incredulously at the counterpane of notes that covered his bed. - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -THE CALL OF THE BLOOD - - -1. - -Pines packed the vast valley, climbing raggedly to the pale grey peaks. -Sometimes the mountains swooped down in gulch and butte of fantastic -beauty. The pines were pale green in the sunshine, the soil strangely -red. There was a curious dryness, a hard brilliance about it all. - -As Hugh looked from the train window he had a feeling of home-coming. -It was as if his ancestors had lived in this land; as if in no other -could he thrive so well. - -“I’m feeling heaps better,” he thought. “Only let me get six months -in these jolly old pine forests, living like a wood-cutter. The life -of nature, that’s what I need to make a new man of me. Ah! this is my -country. I’m here now; and here I’ll stay.” - -Looking at that sky so invincibly blue, that soil so subjugated by the -sun, it seemed hard to believe that elsewhere there could be fog and -cold and sleet. Here the sunshine was of so conquering a quality, it -was difficult to think of sullen lands that could resist it. - -Again Hugh felt that sense of familiarity: “I’m a son of the sun,” he -exulted; “a child of the sun-land.” - -So absorbed was he that a rasping voice at his side almost startled him. - -“The verdure here is profligate, ain’t it?” - -The speaker was a rusty, creaky man smoking a rank cigar. He had a bony -nose, and a ragged moustache. He wore a dusty bowler hat and a coat -with a collar of hard-bitten musk-rat. - -“The pines do seem to thrive,” said Hugh. - -“Pines is very tendatious,” observed the shabby man. “Very saloobrious -too.” - -“Indeed,” said Hugh. “Are you a health-seeker?” - -“No, sir. Not ’ealth,--wealth. I’m a man with a system, I am. The -finest system on the Riviera.” - -“I wish mine was. It’s rather dicky.” - -“Oh, I wasn’t referrin’ to my corporationus system. It’s my system at -roulette. Allow me....” - -He handed Hugh a rather soiled card on which was engraved: - - +------------------------------------------------------------+ - | PROFESSOR ROBERT BENDER, | - | ROULETTE EXPERT, | - | INVENTOR OF BENDER’S VOISIN SYSTEM | - | _Author of “How to live at the Cost of the Casino.”_ | - +------------------------------------------------------------+ - -“Yes,” supplemented the shabby man importantly. “You see before you one -of the greatest livin’ authorities on roulette. I’ve studied it now for -twenty years. They all consult old Bob. Many a gentleman I’ve ’elped to -fortune. ’Avin’ no capital myself, I’m obliged to let others ’ave the -benefit of my experience.” - -“And your system?” queried Hugh politely. - -“Well, sir, it’s based on the fact that the old croupiers ’ave a ’abit -of throwin’ the ball in a hotomatic way, so that they ’ave spells when -they throw into the same section of the wheel. Of course, it calls for -judgment and observation.” - -“Luck, too, I should imagine.” - -“Not so much. Luck is a thing we scientific roulette players try not to -recognize. We aim to beat chance by calculation.” - -“Is it really true,” said Hugh, “that one can live at the cost of the -Casino?” - -“Certainly. Thousands are doin’ it this very day. Why, I can go in any -time and make a couple of louis.” - -“I wish I could.” - -“So you can, sir, with a little experience. You’re goin’ to Monte?” - -“No, Menton.” - -“Ah, that’s a pity. Mentony’s too full of English, too deadly dull. -Monte’s a sporty little gem, the most beautiful spot on earth--and the -wickedest.” - -“That sounds interesting.” - -“Interestin’ ... I should say so. There’s no square mile on God’s globe -so packed with drama. There’s no theatre a patch on that Casino. You’d -better get off at Monte, sir, and let me put you on to my system. -Sixteen hundred francs capital is all you need, and I guarantees you a -daily profit of from twenty to eighty per cent.” - -Hugh thought of the poor two thousand francs that was to last him for -six months. - -“I’ll think over it. Meantime I’ve arranged to go to Menton.” - -“Well, we’ll surely see you at the tables before long. By the way, sir, -you see that gentleman with the white spats? He’s a English gentleman, -a Mister Jarvie Tope. Very nice man, but he’s got a system that’s no -good. Don’t let him fool you with it.” - -“Thank you,” said Hugh, “I’ll be careful.” - -The pine-lands had given way to vinelands, the peaks to plains. The -vines pushed jagged forks through the red soil; the olive groves -wimpled in the wind. The goats and donkeys scarcely raised their heads -to gaze at the insolent train. Hugh was in such a deep reverie that he -did not notice the approach of Mr. Jarvie Tope. - -Mr. Tope was a little rosy man, round and bland with waxed grey -moustaches. He was well groomed, and seemed on the most excellent terms -with life. - -“Ha, ha!” he squeaked as he drew near to Hugh, “Old Bob Bender’s been -warning you against me, I could see it in his eye, the rascal. Told -you, no doubt, I’d try to put you on to my system. Couldn’t, if I -would. I’ve come over to play for a syndicate.” - -“Indeed. What sort of a system is yours?” - -“Well, it’s based on the idea that the same phenomenon cannot occur on -the same spot at the same moment to-day that it occurred at the same -spot on the same day last year. I have my phenomena carefully recorded -and when the times comes I bet on them. The probabilities are millions -in my favour.” - -“There seems to be a lot of systems.” - -“No end of ’em. We all think ours is the best and the other fellows’ no -good. With a bit of luck all are good, but you need a lot of capital to -defend yourself, and you must be content with a very moderate return. -And after all none are infallible. That’s what we’re all seeking, a -formula that’s infallible. So far no one has found it, but still we -seek and hope.... You see that old fellow at the end of the corridor?” - -“The venerable old chap with the white beard?” - -“Yes, I call him Walt Whitman. Well, he’s a man over seventy, going to -Monte Carlo for the first time, a professor from the Sorbonne, Durand -by name. They say he has worked on his system for twenty years, and is -bringing the savings of a lifetime to test it. Ah! we’ll see what we -shall see. Fine looking old chap, isn’t he?” - -“Very striking,--like a Hebrew prophet.” - -“He has books and books of figures and calculations. What his system is -no one knows. I’ve seen a heap of them come like conquerors and go away -broken on the wheel.” - -“You know the place well?” - -“I should think so. Never missed a season for twenty years. Coming here -has got to be a habit with me. In summer I have a cottage in Kent where -I grow roses; in winter an apartment in Monte where I play roulette. -Oh, I’m a great boy, you don’t know me.” - -Mr. Tope laughed in jolly appreciation of himself. - -“Well, I suppose I’m crazy like the rest of ’em. We’re all crazy there. -The Casino is a great lunatic asylum. We wander about as if we were -free, but we’re not. Inevitably our feet carry us back. Don’t let it -get you, young man. Avoid Monte as you would the plague.... By the way -there’s the first call for lunch. I’m going to have a wash first. See -you later.” - - -2. - -Hugh followed a line of passengers to the dining car. He had found a -place and was looking at the menu card when the waiter ushered a lady -into the opposite seat. He looked up and then as quickly away. For -even in that casual glimpse he was aware that his vis-à-vis was most -alarmingly attractive. - -Now Hugh was an unusually shy young man, and in the ordinary course of -events would have eaten his meal in silence, and gone away without a -word. To his amazement, he heard a firm, clear voice addressing him: - -“Don’t you remember me?” - -Suddenly he found himself gazing into a pair of smiling brown eyes; but -even as he looked the smile died in their amber depths. In its place -was embarrassment; a frown puckered the delicately pencilled eyebrows. -Again the clear voice spoke almost with reproach. - -“Oh, I beg your pardon, but you are ridiculously like a friend of -mine,--Paul Vulning.” - -“Indeed, that’s curious.” - -“Yes, too absurd. For now I look, you’re quite a bit different. Paul -must be five years older than you, but he looks ten. The dear boy -doesn’t take the care of himself he ought. A sad scapegrace.” - -She regarded him again, then laughed joyously. - -“Why, here we are, two perfect strangers talking together like old -pals. What must you think of me? Because of your likeness to Paul I -feel as if I’d known you for ages. What’s your name?” - -“Hugh Kildair.” - -“Sounds deliciously Scotch. But you’re English, aren’t you?” - -“I’ve lived all my life in England.” - -“Indeed? So have I. But never again. The English are so cold. They -don’t understand temperament. Even before my husband died and we lost -all our money, I was quite fed up with it. Now I spend the winter in -Monte and the summer in Aix.” - -The waiter interrupted her with the wine card. She looked rather -disdainfully down the list and chose the most expensive. Then she -scanned Hugh appraisingly. His new grey suit sat well. His collar and -tie were of the right sort. He looked clean, correct; a public school -man. The lady seemed satisfied. - -“You’re a nice boy,” she said happily. “I’m Mrs. Belmire. Every one in -Monte knows me. You’re going to Monte, of course?” - -Hugh hesitated. “No, I’m rather seedy. I’m going to Menton to rest up.” - -“Menton. Why! you’ll be bored to death there! Nothing but old tabbies -who go to each others’ teas and talk gossip. Oh, you’ll hate it. Get -off at Monte. Promise me you will.” - -She was really a beautiful woman. Everything about her was so -exquisitely correct. Her complexion had the delicacy of porcelain; her -henna-coloured hair looked as if it had just come from the hands of the -coiffeur; her eyes had passion in their tarn-brown depths. As her hand -touched his he felt that he would have got off at Hades to please her. - -“Seems a good idea; I might as well rest there.” - -“Topping! it’s decided then. You’ll come and see me. I suppose you’ll -stay at the ‘Paris.’ I wouldn’t though. They’ll charge you two hundred -francs a night for a room. Oh, yes, my dear boy, you’re going to say -their charges are their charges, but you don’t know Monte. Unless -you’re odiously oofy, don’t go to the Paris. It’s simply infested with -‘rastas’ and _nouveaux riches_. Some of the hotels on the hill are -really quite nice, and you’ll meet the right sort of people there. -You see, I’m taking a motherly interest in you. I don’t want to see -you foolishly extravagant. Above all, don’t throw your money away -recklessly at the Casino. If you must play let me be your adviser. Let -me give you the benefit of my experience.” - -“That’s awfully nice of you.” - -“Not at all. I’ve helped heaps of men. I can’t afford to play myself, -but I enjoy seeing others win. Have a cigarette?” - -He took one from a gold case, and they puffed between courses. She -sipped only a little of the wine, and the bottle was half full when the -waiter whisked it away. She ordered a _fine champagne_ with her coffee, -and graciously allowed Hugh to pay the bill. As she rose to leave she -gave his hand a little squeeze. - -“There! I’ve enjoyed my lunch so much! Remember me; Mrs. Belmire. And -don’t forget to get off at Monte.” - -The paying of the bill had a sobering effect on him. - -“After all,” he thought, “if she knew I was a nobody with only two -thousand francs in the world she wouldn’t wipe her shoes on me. As for -meeting her in Monte, this decides me. I’ll steer clear of the place.” - - -3. - -The scenery was as lovely as a painted panel. Between umbrella pines -he saw the majestic sway of the sea. Snowy villas peeped from sombre -cyprus groves. The palms were pale gold in the wistful sunshine. Magic -names glorified the commonplace looking stations.--San Raphael, Agay, -Nice. In the setting sun the way seemed to be growing more and more -wonderful, as if working up to a climax of beauty. Every moment moved -him to fresh rapture. And to think that this loveliness had been here -all the time and he had not known! How could people continue to exist -in that grim grey London? Was there such a place as this, or was he -dreaming it? Would he ever go back again to fog and grime? No, never, -never.... - -Villefranche, Beaulieu, Eze ... the light had faded, yet still he -stared at the shadows through the darkened pane. He was aware suddenly -that the glass was reflecting mirror-like the compartment behind him. -At first he thought it was empty, then he heard a sigh and saw it was -occupied by a slim slip of a girl. She was sitting in the corner, very -quiet, very anxious. She was dressed in deep black, and her white, -rather haggard face had a kind of pathetic appeal. He noted all this -without any particular interest. Then suddenly she took off her hat and -he saw that she had the most wonderful hair in the world. - -She rose to arrange it before the small mirror above her seat. With a -brusque movement she withdrew two combs and let it ripple down in a -rain of gold. It reached below her waist. It covered her like a cape, -it shimmered in the lamp-light, it seemed as luminous as a flame. At -the sight of such glory Hugh turned and stared. - -Then the girl noticed him and flushed with shame. She clutched her -bright tresses to her head and swiftly rearranged them. She turned her -back.... - - -_Monte Carlo._ - -They were getting in now. The train seemed to plunge into a dazzle of -light; then the darkness of another tunnel; then a long green station. -On the lamps so meanly printed, he could see the magic name that opens -wide the portals of romance. Surely it should be blazoned in fiery -capitals on the heights of heaven! This then was the spot of which -people talk and dream, that masterpiece of nature and art which never -disenchants, which is adorable even in its cruelty. Fatal, fascinating -name,--Monte Carlo. - -It was the climax of the beautiful journey. The train disgorged nearly -all its passengers as if this place like a magnet was drawing them out. -He saw Bob Bender, and Jarvie Tope. He watched old Professor Durand -looking curiously about him, and a white-haired porter taking the -baggage of Mrs. Belmire. He felt alone, abandoned. - -As the train lingered, loth to leave this charmed spot, Hugh felt a -sudden desire to get off. He saw the fair-haired girl struggling with -a basket-valise. With a sudden impulse he gathered together his own -luggage and prepared to descend, but the train was already in motion. - -“Just as well. Now for Menton.” - -Then behold! the train halted again and backed to the station. - -“Fate!” said Hugh and jumped off. He passed through a long baggage room -into a courtyard where there was a line of luxurious hotel omnibuses -and porters in livery. The court was backed by a wall of rock that -rose to the heights of a glorious garden. Palms speared the silvery -arc-lights. Masses of geraniums stained the face of the rock. On the -winding steps that led to the garden a nude statue of a woman was set -in a niche amid ferns and water-lilies, and a diamond spray of water. - -On the long hill to the right was a line of fiacres. He saw the -fair-haired girl hand her bag to one of the drivers. - -“Pension Paoli,” she said. - -Hugh watched her drive away; then he, too, hailed a fiacre. The dark -driver bent to him with smiling politeness. - -“Where to, monsieur?” - -Hugh thought for a moment. As he stood there he had a strange thrill -of wonder and of joy. He seemed to breathe an enchanted air; the silver -lights amid the trees were those of fairyland; he felt as if he were -hesitating on the very threshold of romance. - -“Pension Paoli,” he answered. - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -THE POISONED PARADISE - - -1. - -An amiable, early morning sun was irradiating that great theatre which -is Monte Carlo, and a regiment of stage hands were preparing the scene -for another day. Hawk-eyed bands of them with brush and pan were -grooming the cleanest streets in the world, pouncing triumphantly on -burnt matches and unsightly cigarette ends. Other bands invaded the -beautiful gardens, trimming each blade of grass to the same size and -meticulously barbering each bud and flower. They moved with nonchalant -grace, these brown-skinned Monegascans, as became the servitors of that -great, benevolent institution, the Casino. - -As Hugh passed through the gardens, breathing the perfumed air, a -great delight glowed in him. His first impression was of the theatric -quality of the place, its note of unreality. It was a fit setting for -the pleasure-seeking hordes, for the legions of luxury, for these -dreaming of fortune and those dead to hope. He never lost his sense of -its unreality, of its being a stage scene, on which was played a daily -drama in three acts: Morning, Afternoon, and Evening. - -Passing between the Casino and the Hotel de Paris, he descended in -the direction of the Condamine. At the top of a long hill, a little -way past the post office, he paused with a joy that thrilled him to -ecstasy.... - -_He saw a little U shaped harbour shielded from the sea. It was as -delicate as a pastel, a placque of sapphire set in pearl. In the -crystal air the red-roofed houses crowded close to it. The terraced -town rose on tip-toe to peer at it. It was all glitter and gleam, and -radiant beauty. And yonder in sombre contrast rose the Rock, monstrous, -mediæval,--so scornful of that hectic modernity across the bay._... - -He climbed the long steep hill, crossed the sunny square in front of -the palace and plunged into the cool gloom of the narrow streets. -Wandering idly along he came to a low brown house with a tiny porch, -and four pepper-trees in front. He looked at it carelessly enough, then -turned and wandered into the garden of the Prince. He gazed curiously -at a broken pillar covered with ivy. There was a spring sunk deep in -the rock; the flowers bloomed there; and bees and butterflies made the -nook gay and tuneful. He found a bench that overlooked the glimmering -sea and rested awhile. - -As he sat pensively dreaming, two pale ghosts may have been watching -him; a man strong and tall, a girl sweet and fragrant as a flower. -Perhaps wrapt in that great love to which he owed his being, they were -drawing near to him with wistful pain, with adoring tenderness. Who -knows?... - -Filled with a strange melancholy Hugh rose and went his unheeding way. -Again he looked carelessly at the house in which his mother was born, -in which _her_ mother still lived.... - -But he remembered nothing. He did not know. He never knew.... - - -2. - -The chief recommendation of the Pension Paoli was its cheapness. For -twenty francs a day Hugh had his board and a chamber that overlooked -the red roofs and the blue sea beyond. He had a tiny balcony, too, and -in the lazy, limpid days he cultivated a cheerful lethargy. - -It was one of those Bohemian establishments peculiar to the -Principality. People came and went without exciting interest. The -_clientele_ was imperturbably cosmopolitan, the cuisine piquantly -Italian. At the table d’hôte one heard half a dozen tongues and no one -was concerned about the respectability of his neighbour. Every one -seemed to gamble, and to think of little but the Casino. - -Hugh’s first evening was typical. He was trying to go to sleep, when -about midnight some one entered the next room. He heard the sound of -money being emptied on the table, counted, then a sigh of satisfaction. -Every night this happened, only some nights there was no money and -curses took the place of content. On such nights he would say to -himself, “The Twitcher’s been loosing.” - -The Twitcher was a tall weedy man, who, owing to some nervous malady, -had a trick of raising and lowering his eyebrows. He had a friend -whom Hugh called the Sword-Swallower, on account of his way of eating -ravioli. The S. S. was small and brisk, with tiny, cropped head, and a -large but carefully groomed moustache. His trousers were striped and of -the same width all the way down. - -The S. S. and the Twitcher were allies and united in a dislike for a -third man, whom Hugh dubbed the Rat. This was a sturdy, bandy-legged -fellow with a bulging jaw, a broken nose and close-set, beady eyes. His -skin had a curious pallor, a prison pallor, Hugh thought. He decided -that the Rat had just finished doing time and was now spending the swag. - -One day he overheard a conversation between the Twitcher and the -Sword-Swallower which referred to the Rat. - -“Yes,” said the Twitcher, “the fellow’s as crooked as a ram’s horn. I -saw him do it again.” - -“Do what?” - -“He puts a louis on one of the dozens then watches the ball. Just as it -drops he shifts his stake to the winning dozen. He is quick as a flash -and nine times out of ten the croupier doesn’t notice it. So he gets -paid.” - -“He’s a shady one. If you leave your money in the table at night, be -sure to lock your door.” - -“I’ve never done so yet, but in future I’ll be more careful.” - -At this moment the Rat entered and greeted them with a twinkle in his -beady eyes. - -“Well,” he said briskly, “I’ve just made my ‘day,’--five louis. Now I -can rest.” - -“You’re easily satisfied,” said the Twitcher; “if I don’t clear twenty, -I think I’m out of luck.” - -“Not me,” said the Sword-Swallower. “If I can make the bank cough up a -couple of louis I quit. But I never fail.” - -“What’s your system?” demanded the Rat. - -“Oh, I play for a _paroli_. And yours?” - -“I always play between the dozens,” answered the Rat; “it’s the safest.” - -“Yes,” said the Twitcher. “You play a safe game all right. As for me, -give me the _traversals_....” - -Here the conversation became too technical for Hugh to follow. -Presently the Twitcher said to the S. S.: - -“Come on. Let’s go and scratch.” - -As they went away, the Rat installed himself in a comfortable chair and -called for a _Dubonnet_. Then he lit a cigarette from a yellow packet, -blew the smoke blissfully through his nostrils, sipped his apéritif, -and seemed content with all the world. - -“A sinister chap,” Hugh thought, and ceased to look at him. Suddenly he -heard a gasp of dismay. - -The Rat was staring out of the window, his sallow face livid, his hands -clutching the table edge. Then he dived through the little door at the -back of the restaurant and disappeared. Astonished, Hugh followed the -direction of the man’s gaze. All he saw was a mild old priest peering -rather curiously at the house. Hugh watched wonderingly; but the -priest, after lingering a little, went slowly away, and the Rat did not -finish his apéritif. - -Among the other boarders were two Swedish women, mother and daughter. -The mother was short and fat, and the daughter, tall and thin; but both -were blonde and had shiny, red faces. They dressed in black satin, with -gold chains round their necks and diamond rings on every available -finger. They ate gluttonously, and spoke a harsh, gabbling tongue. -Although they were evidently rich, they gambled greedily for five franc -pieces. - -Occasionally Hugh saw the girl with the bright, heaping hair. Sometimes -at meals he would see her slip into a remote corner, quiet as a mouse. -She looked at no one, kept her head down, ate very little and stole out -again as softly as she had come. - -One day he questioned Terese, the waitress, about her. - -“Ah,” said Terese, “you’re asking me something. All I can tell you is -that her name on the register is Margot Leblanc. She’s a queer one. -Never speaks to a soul. She spends her time between the church and the -Casino, between praying and gambling. I can’t make her out.” - -Hugh’s curiosity was aroused. But the girl’s manner discouraged any -attempt at acquaintance. Once when he chanced to encounter her on the -stair, his polite greeting was met by such a sullen silence that his -interest in her faded. - - -3. - -His health was improving daily. It seemed quite wonderful. Instead of -watching the tennis-players, he wanted to join them. The distance of -his walks lengthened. He joined the little English library and changed -his books frequently. On the heights above the town, sitting under an -olive tree with the vast shimmer of the sea below him, he read through -long sunny hours. Sometimes he got out his box of water colours, and -made some sketches. - -At half past nine every morning he sauntered down the palm-lined -avenue that descends to the Casino. Even at that hour it was packed -with luxurious motors, and he christened it “Limousine Lane.” Dozens -of gardeners were valeting the lawns on either hand to an unheard of -greenness and trimness. The air was always delicious. - -At the foot of “Limousine Lane” was the “Cheese,” a round grassy mound -diagrammed with flowers. It was shaded by four proud palms and a great -rubber tree. Around it were seats for spectators. Lounging there Hugh -saw the world of fashion parade. Women exquisitely dressed, and men -immaculate sauntered past like actors on a stage. They mounted the -seven carpeted steps of the Casino, paused for a moment as if conscious -that every detail of their costumes was perfect; then turned and were -swallowed by the Temple of Chance. - -While Hugh never wearied of this constant swirl of elegance, his main -interest was in the swinging doors of the Casino itself. He never tired -of watching the players come and go. One day Bob Bender came down the -steps looking rustier and more mildewed than ever. He recognized Hugh. - -“What, sir,--not playing yet?” - -“No, I have no money to lose. Are you doing all right?” - -The old gambler shook his head in a melancholy way. - -“Not exactly. I’m transversing a bad time. I was expecting a gentleman -from America who wanted me to play for him, but he is delayed,--a Mr. -Fetterstein. Maybe you’ve heard of him?” - -“No.” - -“Well, his not comin’ has deranged me. I’ve been playin’ a little game -of my own but I ’aven’t got capital enough. This mornin’ I came up -against zero three times. A man can’t do anything against that. Now -I’m off to get a bite of lunch. Maybe things will come my way this -afternoon.” - -He shambled off. Before going to his own luncheon Hugh strolled around -the gardens. Nurses were watching beautiful, well-behaved children. The -round pond mirrored the palms and pink geraniums; the little stream -was fringed by ferns and flowers and starred with water-lilies. The -green sweep of the sward was like a carpet, set with strange exotic -trees, agave and cactus and dwarf oranges. Midway there was a little -artificial ford, with gold-fishes glancing in the lazy ripples. - -Yet there were jarring notes in this harmony. An old man for instance -who sat on a bench reading discarded journals. He wore eye-glasses and -had an air of dignity quite at variance with his rags. His boots were -altogether disreputable and his coat would have disgraced a decent -ash-bin. Yet it was easy to see that he had been a person of education -and refinement who had lost a fortune at the tables. Hugh took a seat -beside him. - -“Well,” said the old fellow, “what do you think of it?” - -“It’s beautiful,” said Hugh with fervour. - -The other looked at him sarcastically. - -“Beautiful, yes ... and it’s to me and the likes of me you owe it; we -pay for it; we keep it up. Take a good gaze at me, young chap, and -you’ll enjoy it all the more.” He laughed so disagreeably that Hugh -rose and left him. But the gardens did not seem as lovely as before. - - -4. - -Hugh’s favourite walk was along the highroad that led to the Tête -du Chien. It crossed a dizzy bridge over a deep gorge in which the -washerwomen hung their linen to dry. At the mouth of this gorge, framed -in the arches of the railway bridge, was a tiny chapel, and behind it, -like a slab of lapis lazuli, the harbour. Climbing still higher the -road passed the Persian villa and reached the top of the hill. Almost -directly below were the red roofs of the Condamine. - -Continuing still further the road swung into a great curve high above -Monaco, disclosing both the Rock and the sweet serenity of the sea. -Terrace upon terrace of olive trees rose to the base of the mountain. - -Hugh was walking along this road one morning, admiring the beauty that -surrounded him, when suddenly he glanced down. In the dust at his feet, -fresh and glistening, was a crimson patch. “Curious,” he thought; -“those marks look as if a heavy body had fallen here.” He examined the -stone-wall and found a slight spatter of blood. A little further on, he -picked up something that made him look very thoughtful, a bit of bony -fibre, to which adhered a few dark hairs. Strange! He looked downwards, -and saw that he stood just above the Cemetery of Monaco. He found the -path and slowly descended. - -He searched for some time for the suicide’s section of the cemetery -which he had been told was cunningly concealed. A great high wall -separated the lower from the upper graveyard, and built half the way -up the face of it, was another wall, the space between the two forming -a narrow shelf. There was no access to this shelf except through a -broken place in the balustrade of the stairway just large enough to -pass a coffin. As he looked down from the upper wall, Hugh saw that the -whole length of the shelf was closely packed with nameless graves. In -one place where the earth had been thrown carelessly up a rusty shovel -leaned against the wall. The air had the smell of a charnel pit. - -He climbed the hill again. The place where he had seen the blood was -now quite clean. There was no trace of any disturbance. Some one had -come in his absence and tidied things up. The sky had suddenly grown -grey, grey too and sinister the mountains. He had an uneasy sense that -somewhere in the olive trees unseen eyes were watching him; that he was -being spied on and shadowed. - - -5. - -Another day when he took this solitary walk, twilight was gathering and -the roofs of the Condamine were softened to a coral mist. The space -between the rock of Monaco and the Tête du Chien was filled with -sunset after-glow as a cup is filled with wine. The olive trees lately -twinkling in the sunshine were now mysteriously still. - -When Hugh came to the highest point overlooking the town, he stopped -to rest. The rock of Monaco rose like a monster from the sea, and was -as dim and silent as a tomb. He could distinguish the courtyard of the -Palace, greyly alight, and a black stencilling of windows. A solitary -lamp revealed a turret and an ancient archway, all else was gloom. In -its austere mediæval strength the rock seemed the abode of mystery and -silence. - -And Monte Carlo! Looking towards it Hugh could see nothing but light. -The mountains were pricked with patterns of light, the great hotels -were packed with light. And all seemed to concentrate in one dazzling -centre, the source from which this luxury of light flowed,--the Casino. - -Then he noticed that on a bench near him was a stooping figure. To his -surprise he recognized it as that of Professor Durand. The old man was -clutching in his hands a number of the Revue of Monte Carlo with its -columns of permanencies. - -“What a pity!” thought Hugh. “So fine, so venerable a head bent over -those wretched figures. This man who might be taken for a preacher, a -prophet,--a slave to this vulgar vice, puzzling over systems, trying to -outwit the Goddess Chance. _Le calcul peut vaincre le jeu_ ... that is -the lying phrase that lures them. Fools!” - -Then he turned for the Professor was addressing him. Hugh saw a -flashing eye, a noble brow. - -“Young man, you will excuse me, but I claim the privilege of age. At -the Sorbonne I have lectured to thousands like you. I speak because I -noted in your passing glance something of disdain.” - -Hugh made a gesture of protest. - -“No, I do not blame you. You see me with these numbers. But you -misjudge me.... Listen....” - -The old man seemed to grow taller. He stretched his hand to where the -Casino glittered like a crown of gems. - -“I am eighty years old to-day. I have a feeling that I shall never see -another birthday. But there is one thing I hope to do before I die ... -_to ruin that accursed place_.” - -Hugh stared at him. - -“I speak for the good of humanity, I speak because of the evil it -has done in the past, the harm it can do in years to come. I speak -in behalf of its thousand of blasted homes, its broken hearts, its -shameful graves. Ah! you only see the beautiful surface. You do not -see below. But I do. And to my eyes yonder rock on which it stands, is -built of human skulls, the waves that lap it are tears and blood. Look -at the loveliness of earth and sky, the purple mountain rising from the -silver sea, the dreamlike peace, the soft and gentle air. No painted -picture was ever half so beautiful. How happy all might be here! A -paradise, a human paradise; but because of that place, a poisoned -paradise.” - -Hugh stared harder. The old man’s voice was tense with passion. - -“You think I am a fanatic, a madman. Wait and see. I am going to -destroy that place. For years I have worked on my great plan. It is -the crown of my life. In a few weeks I will begin to play. I shall win -and win. By mathematics I will frustrate chance. I will compel them to -close their doors, for my system is invincible. God has given me this -task to do, and I will complete it before I die. Into my hands He has -delivered them. I am His instrument of vengeance. Let them beware!” - -In a magnificent gesture he shook his clenched fists at the Casino. -When Hugh left him he was still standing like a prophet on the heights, -staring down on his poisoned paradise. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -THE GIRL WHO WAS ALWAYS ALONE - - -1. - -Christmas had come and gone, a strange, unreal Christmas, with none -of those rigors and austerities that Hugh had been accustomed to -associate with the season. The long stretch of garden in front of the -Casino was enamelled with patterns of pink, purple and milky cyclamen, -as brilliant as banners against the green; the ribbon-like paths -were terra-cotta; and the usual indolent gardeners were shaving and -shampooing the velvety lawns. - -Hugh was feeling elaborately well. In the last two months a great -change had come over him. His pale face had taken on a healthy tan; its -hollows had disappeared. A new force, a new courage possessed him; he -looked a lithe, swift youth, as clean as fire. - -It was then with a joyous sense of recovered manhood that he took the -early train one morning for La Turbie, and started to walk to Menton. -As he swung along the High Corniche it seemed as if he was looking -over the nose of an aeroplane. The brilliant panorama of shore and sea -expanded before his gaze. He saw the Rock rising like a huge hump from -the water, the crowded red roofs of the Principality, the dainty hoop -of the harbour. His gaze shifted to the dazzling curve of the coast, -the pretentious Casino, Cap Martin with its gleam of modern villas in -ancient olive groves. A desire to paint this beauty kindled and glowed -within him. - -He climbed to the ruins of the old castle of Roquebrune and gazed -through a round window onto a dizzy gulf of sea and sky. His reverie -was disturbed by a sound of voices and as he descended to the courtyard -he saw a woman standing by the battlements, looking out into the great, -shining space. She was tall and graceful, dressed in a jersey costume -of primrose silk. It was Mrs. Belmire. - -As if she had known he was there, she stretched her hand backwards, -without turning her head. - -“Come here,” she commanded. - -Hugh obeyed. He took the outstretched hand and was drawn gently to her -side. - -“Isn’t it lovely,” she sighed. - -He felt her hand tighten in his. He had a sudden desire to kiss her -lovely neck. Slowly she turned towards him, then stepped back and -stamped her foot in vexation. - -“Oh, it’s _you_!” she cried. “Well, of all the-- I thought it was Mr. -Fetterstein.” - -But quickly she recovered herself. - -“I’ve a bone to pick with you, naughty young man. Why have you never -come to see me?” - -Hugh had no excuse ready. - -“I had made up my mind not to speak to you again. But there! Good -nature was always my weakness. Promise me to come soon and I’ll forgive -you.” - -While Hugh was promising another man joined them. Mrs. Belmire turned -to the newcomer radiantly. - -“Mr. Fetterstein; I want to introduce Mr. Kildair; a young countryman -of mine.” - -Mr. Fetterstein did not look enthusiastic, but mustered a show of -cordiality. - -“Pleased to meet you,” he said; and offered a large hard hand. In fact -everything about Mr. Fetterstein suggested hardness. He looked muscular -and forceful. His hair was iron grey; the lines of his clean-shaven -face were firm and grim; his jaw strong; his eyes shrewd; his voice -had a determined rasp. Even his clothes were made of some hard, -wear-resisting tweed. - -“Now, come,” said Mrs. Belmire; “I positively insist on your admiring -this view.” - -“If you insist, Mrs. Belmire, there is nothing more to be said. But you -know how looking at scenery always makes me hungry. Even now I’ve got -an appetite I wouldn’t sell for a twenty dollar bill. I grant you this -is fine all right. We haven’t got anything in the United States that -could touch it. But for my part I’d rather look into the inside of a -good car than at the finest bit of scenery the Lord ever made.” - -“Oh, you horrid materialist! But you must excuse him, Mr. Kildair. His -enthusiasm is entirely professional. Mr. Fetterstein makes automobiles -in America somewhere....” - -“Detroit, Michigan, ma’am. We have five factories running right now. -In fact I’m over here to pick up pointers from French cars. I’ve got -one down there that’s a hummer. But that reminds me, Mrs. Belmire, we’d -better be getting _ong root_ if we want to make _Song Reemo_ in time -for _dayjoonay_. Come on. Let’s get down if you’ve had enough of your -old ruin.” - -Mrs. Belmire sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t appreciate my ruin.” - -“I guess it’s a first class ruin all right, but they ain’t much in my -line. Now, Mrs. Belmire, if you’ll kindly give me a few pointers on -roulette when we get back to Monte Carlo to-night, that’d make a hit -with me.” - -They descended to the village square where stood a long -vicious-looking, torpedo-shaped car. It was painted a warm orange, with -finishings of nickel. In the curving body was a well with two seats, -and the whole thing looked like an aeroplane without wings. - -“Twelve cylinders,” said Mr. Fetterstein, as he climbed into the raking -seat. Mrs. Belmire looked distinctly nervous but bravely adjusted -her cloak and veil. Mr. Fetterstein raced the engine, jammed in his -first speed; the car leapt forward like a flame. Hugh saw it flashing -down the white road and thrilled as it took the sharp curves. Then a -shoulder of mountain hid it from his view. - -“A most delightful woman,” he thought; “no wonder she has a lot of -admirers. I wish I could call on her, but what’s the good. She’d -only find out that I’m what Mr. Fetterstein would describe as a -‘four-flusher.’” - - -2. - -Hugh lunched and lounged in Menton, until he felt a strange nostalgia -for Monte Carlo come over him. - -“Curious,” he reflected; “already the place has such a hold on me, I -cannot leave it even for a few hours.” - -He jumped into a big lemon-coloured motor bus and in half an hour was -sitting in the Café de Paris. - -“Hullo, old chap,” he heard a shrill voice say, and looked up to see -Mr. Jarvie Tope. Mr. Tope seemed as if he had stepped from a band-box, -a flawless figure of a well-dressed man. - -“Hullo!” responded Hugh. “You’re looking well.” - -Mr. Tope raised his jaunty panama. - -“I should think so, sixty and still going strong. Getting younger -instead of older. Oh, I’m a great boy, I am.” - -“Come and have tea with me,” Hugh begged. - -Mr. Tope sat down. Together they gazed at the brilliant scene. The air -was bright with banners and exultant with music. Gay crowds promenaded -in front of the Casino. An aeroplane swooped down, scaring the drowsy -pigeons on the cornice. Men watched it through their monocles, women -from under their tiny frilled sunshades. Under the striped umbrellas -elegant _demi-mondaines_ sipped their orangeades; professional dandies, -slim and elegant, passed amid the green tables; and dancing girls, -befurred and bejewelled, sauntered on their way to the _Thé Dansant_. -It was a kaleidoscope of colour; a moving pattern of dainty costumes; -an entertainment that never lost its interest. - -“Isn’t it just like a scene in a theatre?” said Mr. Tope. “That’s how -it strikes me even after twenty years. A beautifully dressed crowd, -beautifully behaved; yet below it all vice unfathomable. It sometimes -reminds me of the rainbow iridescence one sees on a pool of scum.... By -the way, I haven’t seen you tempting the fickle goddess?” - -“No, I haven’t been inside the Casino.” - -“Ha! that’s quite a distinction. I noticed you talking to old Bob -Bender the other day.” - -“Yes, he’s having rather a hard time. He’s waiting a backer from -America.” - -“Oh, you needn’t waste any sympathy on old Bob. He’ll never starve.” - -“Why?” - -“Well,” said Mr. Tope, lowering his voice to a whisper, “they say he’s -in the service of the Secret Police.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Ah, young man! you only see the showy side of Monte; but believe me, -there’s a very seamy under one. This is the most cosmopolitan spot in -the world, and criminals of all countries collect here. You might call -it a sort of criminal clearing-house. Well, to counteract this, the -Casino people have the most efficient police force in Europe. They have -agents in all the big capitals; an international crook can’t put his -foot in Monaco without being recognized and watched.” - -“You surprise me.” - -“Do I? Let me tell you: the rooms are full of detectives, male and -female. The chief of the Secret Police is a man of genius, a Swiss -called Krantz. He speaks seven languages and seems to have an eighth -sense, the sense of detection. You may have seen him, a tall, thin man -dressed in black with a dark, clean-shaven face. He always wears a -smile of cheerful simplicity.” - -“And Bob?” - -“Oh, Bob’s just a spy. He keeps track of the English crooks and shadows -if required. They say Krantz values him.” - -“It seems very strange to me.” - -“Not at all. If you only knew the underground workings of this place, -the mentality, the way in which everything is run.... Why, here you’re -not living in the Twentieth Century at all. It’s mediæval. Even now -some spy may be trying to over-hear us.” - -“A queer place!” - -“Yes, and packed with the queerest people on earth. Now, for instance, -that little girl in black, just entering.” - -Hugh started. The girl was Margot Leblanc. He had not seen her for some -time, and had wondered if she was still at the pension. She was dressed -shabbily and as she passed he saw that her face was white and haggard, -and her eyes stared vacantly before her. She sat down at a nearby table. - -“Now, that girl,” continued Mr. Tope, “is a puzzle to me. She came -here about two months ago and she has never been seen to speak to any -one. She is always alone. Nobody knows anything about her. She spends -most of her time in the Rooms gambling with small stakes. I have seen -her stand silently at a table for hours.... By the way, here come my -friends, the Calderbrooks. Let me introduce you.” - -The Calderbrooks were so uncompromisingly English, that their -nationality was recognizable a long way off. They wore tailored -costumes made of the same kind of tweed, with stockings of wool and low -tan shoes. Under broad-brimmed hats their faces were pink and cheerful. -The mother was sweet; the girl pretty; the father a tall thin man, with -drooping moustache, a mild manner, and pale blue eyes. - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Calderbrook, after they had been introduced, “we’re -going on to Mentony; but we thought we must spend a day or two here.... -Perfectly beautiful! Mr. Tope tells me you don’t go to the Rooms? How -very extraordinary! Of course, we strongly disapprove of the whole -thing; but I think every one should go once, if it’s only to see. We’re -going in now for the first time. Mr. Tope has promised to be our guide. -We shall play just once to say we have done so. You’d better come with -us.” - -Hugh shook his head smilingly; “I’d rather not, thank you. I’ll wait -here till you come out.” - -“All right. Shan’t be long.” - -Piloted by Mr. Tope the three mounted the carpeted steps, passed the -bowing flunkeys, and disappeared through the swinging glass doors. In -half an hour they reappeared. They were quite excited. - -“It’s wonderful,” said Mrs. Calderbrook; “Alice put five francs on the -twenty-one, that being her age. What do you think! The twenty-one came -up. They paid her a hundred and eighty francs. Of course we stopped at -once. It doesn’t do to abuse one’s luck. I really believe we are lucky. -We’re going again to-night. Father will try this time,--won’t you, -Father?” - -Mr. Calderbrook said he would in his weak, refined voice. Alice was -shyly radiant. Hugh wished them further good fortune and they returned -to their hotel, eagerly talking of the play. - - -3. - -Hugh remained a while longer. He was watching the girl of his pension. -Her face was pinched and peaked, her eyes strangely haunting in their -pathos. She was so thin that he could see the outline of her sharp -shoulder blades under her shabby jacket. Her bright hair was braided -and coiled away under a hat of black crepe. - -“Poor little devil,” Hugh thought; “she looks up against it.” - -Presently she took a note-book with black glazed covers from her bag, -and began to turn its pages abstractedly. Hugh saw that it was filled -with columns of figures. - -“Roulette records,” he thought again, “the same idiotic obsession.” - -Soon she rose; and having finished his tea, he sauntered idly after -her. He thought she was going to re-enter the Casino; but instead she -turned up-hill in the direction of the town. He saw her climb the steps -of the Church and enter its swinging door. - -After waiting a little, he, too, entered. He found her seated in the -cool dusk, her slim hands crossed and her eyes closed. Whether she was -sleeping or praying he could not tell. He watched her for a while; then -as she continued to sit immovable he went away. - - -4. - -Hugh had found that the strange theatrical charm of Monte Carlo was -most obvious after dark, and he never tired of wandering through the -still gardens, breathing the delicious freshness of the air. Whichever -way he looked a picture formed itself. The tiny paths were like coral -ribbands on a gown of green, embroidered with pansy patterns of -crimson, violet and silver. Under the lamps the blades of the patrician -palms shone like swords. There were lace-screens of translucent green, -rich velvet dusks, and sudden surprises of silver. The fountain sprayed -diamonds into the dark pool, from which came the ruddy flash of -gold-fishes; the roses climbed the palms as if to reach the light. - -That evening he took a seat on the terrace. He heard below him the soft -crooning of the sea, and felt its cool breath. Behind him was starlight -and softly luminous mountains; in front, deep violet space ... mystery, -immensity. - -A small form came slowly along the terrace. As it drew near he saw it -was the strange girl who was always alone. Once or twice she stopped, -looking out over the balustrade to the sea. As she passed him he saw -that her face had the vacant look of a sleep-walker. She sank on a -bench, and took a glazed note-book from her bag. As she looked at it -she sighed with weariness. Her head drooped forward and she slept. - -Another dark form drew near her, the furtive figure of a man. Softly he -sat down on the same bench and seemed to edge nearer and nearer. - -Hugh rose, making unnecessary noise. The man, with a start, glanced his -way and swiftly disappeared. Yet in that flash Hugh had recognized him; -it was that sinister individual, the Rat. - -Hugh went for a walk in the Condamine and did not return until half -past ten. He glanced down to the terrace; hunched on the bench, a -solitary figure, the girl still slept. - -When he got back to the pension, he found it strangely upset. The two -Swedish ladies were going off in a fiacre with their baggage. Their -faces were very red, and they gabbled furiously. The Twitcher and the -Sword-Swallower were talking in low tones. The Rat was nowhere to be -seen. - -“Perhaps,” whispered Teresa, the waitress, “I shouldn’t tell you, but -madame and mademoiselle have left us. They say some one has gone into -their room and stolen money. It was done this afternoon. Fortunately -for me I was away at the time. It is very annoying. _Voila!_ it is -evident we have in the house a thief.” - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -THE THIEF - - -Hugh was preparing to leave the Pension Paoli. Its increasing -atmosphere of furtiveness and suspicion was getting on his nerves. He -had taken a large, sunny unfurnished room in the Condamine and had -bought a folding bed, a table, a chair, and some cooking utensils. Here -he would be alone and quite free. He would spend his days in sketching, -his evenings in reading. - -He was considering all this as he sat on a bench on the terrace just -above that green promontory where they shot the pigeons. Even as he -watched the slaughter was going on. A nimble lad would run out by one -of the red, radiating paths and put a pigeon into one of the grey -boxes; then he would retire and after a short interval the side of the -box would collapse, leaving a bewildered bird facing an overwhelming -freedom. Sometimes the bird would hop around stupidly, fearing to rise -until a rubber ball bounding towards it hastened its decision. _Bang! -Bang!_ Generally the bird would drop on the green turf, to be swiftly -retrieved by an eager dog. Sometimes, however, it would get away and, -minus a tail, circle over the sea, finally rejoining its fellows in -front of the Casino. When a pigeon escaped, Hugh wanted to applaud for -joy. But few escaped, and he was turning away in disgust when he saw -the Calderbrooks. - -“Hullo!” he said, “I’m surprised. I thought you’d gone long ago.” - -“No,” said Mrs. Calderbrook, “we decided to extend our stay. It’s -really a lovely little place. We find the Casino so fascinating. We go -there every day now.” - -“Do you still play?” - -“Oh, a little. Just for chicken-feed though. Father makes enough to pay -for his cigarettes, while I generally get the Casino to stand afternoon -tea. Oh, we’re very careful.” - -“Yes,” said Mr. Calderbrook in his soft refined voice. “One has to be -careful if one goes every day. However, an old fellow called Bender has -taught me a system that so far has been very successful. You put three -pieces on the passe and two on the first dozen, or three pieces on the -manque and two on the last dozen. You have only six numbers against -you. It’s safe.” - -“By the way,” said Mrs. Calderbrook, “we saw an American break the bank -yesterday, a Mr. Fetterstein. He played the number seventeen in every -possible way, staking the maximum. They had to ring for more money. It -was quite interesting. He must have won over a hundred thousand francs. -Well, Father, we’ll leave you with Mr. Kildair to finish your pipe, -while Alice and I go in to try our luck.” - -When they had gone Mr. Calderbrook talked of various subjects, until -suddenly dropping his voice, he said: - -“You see that man in black coming along the terrace--the tall thin one.” - -“The one with the clean-shaven face and the fixed smile?” - -“Yes. That’s the great Krantz, the Chief of the Secret Police.” - -As he passed them the eyes of Krantz were focussed on their faces. - -“There,” said Mr. Calderbrook, “he knew we were discussing him.” - -Hugh looked after the detective. His right hand, held behind his back, -was carrying what looked like a sword cane. It was a long and muscular -hand, and Hugh noted that part of the little finger was missing. - -“They say,” said Mr. Calderbrook, “that he has all kinds of spies -working for him and that he is quite unscrupulous. People who displease -him have a way of disappearing suddenly. But then everything is -high-handed about this place. It is beyond the law. All kinds of -strange things can be done here and hushed up, all kinds of crimes -go unpunished. It seems to be run quite irresponsibly. The Casino -is supreme and rules with a high hand. All it cares for is to get -money....” - -Mr. Calderbrook began to bore him, and Hugh excused himself. He -returned to the pension to prepare for his departure. - -“To-morrow,” he thought, “I shall go away and all these people will -pass out of my existence. It is pleasant to think one can put them so -quietly out of one’s life. Ah! the beauty of liberty!” - -He felt that he could not bear to remain more than one more night under -the same roof with the Rat. The Twitcher and the Sword-Swallower were -to be tolerated, but the Rat made him shudder. There are people who -make us wish the world was bigger, that we might have more room to -avoid them. The Rat was one of these; his very proximity was physically -disagreeable. His skin was the colour of the fresh Gruyère cheese, -except where his eye sockets darkened to chocolate. Criminal or not the -man suggested reptilian perversions. - -When Hugh paid his modest bill, he received a thousand francs in -change, and as he stuffed the small notes into his pocket-book, he was -aware that the sharp eyes of the Rat were upon him. - -It was after ten o’clock and the Pension Paoli was very quiet. All -the boarders were apparently at the Casino. The big building seemed -deserted. - -Leaving the door of his room ajar, Hugh threw himself on his bed. Soon -he heard the street door open and some one pass upstairs. It was the -Rat. - -As he lay in the darkness, and listened to the sounds of the great -gloomy house, a strange feeling of uneasiness began to creep over him. -This grew so strong that after a bit he rose and went out on his little -balcony. The air was exquisite. Over him flowed the river of night, and -looking up into its lucid depths he saw the sky, its bed, pebbled with -stars. Then his eyes drifted to the myriad lights that lay between him -and the sea, lights now clear, now confused into a luminous mist.... - -What was that? Surely some one was moving softly in the passage? No; -he was not wrong. Some one was trying the door of the next room, the -Twitcher’s. But the Twitcher had locked it, and after one or two -efforts the sound ceased. - -Then Hugh had an inspiration. Taking out his pocket-book he threw it on -the bed. Enough light came from the window to show it black against the -white counterpane. There! the trap was baited. - -Footsteps again in the passage, fumbling, muffled. They were drawing -nearer, they were opposite his door. In the darkness he heard hard, -hurried breathing. His own heart was tapping like a hammer. Surely the -footsteps were passing? No, they had halted. Then slowly, slowly, his -door was pushed open, and a black stealthy form crept to his bed. - -He held his breath, and waited.... Now the dark shape was close.... Now -an arm reached out, and a hand seized the pocket-book.... Now.... - -Hugh leapt forward and closed the door. He was alone in the darkness -with the intruder. He had done it. The Rat was trapped. - -“You dirty sneak-thief, I’ve got you,” he cried. - -He switched on the electricity, and the room leaped into light. Against -the far wall, cowering and clutching at it for support, was a figure in -a black hood and cape. - -Then it was Hugh’s turn to start back and utter a cry of dismay. - -For framed in the black hood, and gazing at him wild-eyed with fear, -was Margot Leblanc. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -THERE WAS A LONG SILENCE - - -1. - -Shrinking against the wall the girl looked up at him, her face sick -with terror. Amazement turned him to stone. Then suddenly he recovered -himself; and his astonishment changed to disgust. - -“Well,” he said in a hard voice, “caught you in the act, didn’t I?” - -She did not answer. - -“I’m sorry, very sorry. I’d rather it had been any one else. Tell me, -is there any reason I shouldn’t hand you over to the police?” - -No answer. - -“Speak, please. Is there any reason?...” - -Her arms dropped. She straightened up, and looked him full in the face. - -“There is. I’m starving. I haven’t tasted food for two days....” Then -she sank at his feet. - - -2. - -Two hours later they were in a lonely corner of a restaurant. She had -satisfied her hunger, and was sitting silent, downcast, sullen. - -He looked at her with keen, bright eyes. “Poor little devil!” he -thought, “perhaps she isn’t so bad after all.” Then aloud he said: -“I suppose when you went to the Twitcher’s room your intention was to -steal?” - -She hesitated. After all, what did it matter? “Yes,” she answered. “I -went down there to steal.” - -“You also stole the money belonging to the Swede women....” - -“No, I didn’t do that. I swear I didn’t....” - -He looked at her steadily. He did not believe her. - -“What are you going to do now?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“What’s going to become of you?” - -“I don’t know.” - -He leaned back, his hands clasping his knee. He noted a tress of bright -gold hair coiling over her hollow cheek. - -“I mustn’t leave her to her fate,” he thought. - -Bending forward he said impulsively: “Look here, let me lend you some -money.” - -A deep flush stained her cheek. He, too, was one of them ... the -beasts. Sharply she answered: - -“No.” - -“Why not?” - -“Because I don’t choose to accept your aid.” - -“It seems to me you’re not in a position to refuse it; you haven’t -a _sou_. To-morrow you’re to be turned out of your room. Madam will -certainly keep all your belongings. You will have nowhere to go. You -have no friends here. You are not fit to do any work. You are on the -verge of a break-down. Again I ask ... what’s going to become of you?” - -“It doesn’t matter.” - -“Yes, it does. Look here ... suppose I lay a charge against you of -entering my room with intent to steal,--will you deny it?” - -“No.” - -“Well then, you are in my power. You must submit to my conditions.” - -She looked at him sullenly. “What are they?” - -“I’m not going to lend you any money, but I am going to help you in my -own way. First of all, I want you to promise me that you will never -enter the Casino again.” - -She laughed bitterly. “I’ll promise that. I hate the place.” - -“Now, I’m taking a room in the Condamine. I want you to come there and -be my housekeeper.” - -She could not keep the contempt out of her eyes. - -“Don’t look at me like that,” he said sharply. “I see you don’t -understand.” - -“You don’t mean ... _that_?” - -“No, damn it, I don’t mean--_that_.” - -She looked at him with new interest, steadily, wonderingly. He went -on: “It’s a big room. We’ll divide it into three, with screens and -curtains. There will be your part, and my part, and a common one to be -used as a kitchen and dining-room. Don’t fear. You’ll be as safe behind -your curtain as if you were in a room with doors double-locked.” - -She had never met a man like this. Wonder widened her eyes. He laughed -to see it, a frank boyish laugh. - -“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I don’t see why it won’t work, though. If -I were a Frenchman, it surely wouldn’t. But we Anglo-Saxons are a -cold-blooded lot. We’re idealists, given to doing strange, mad things. -I give you my word of honour I will respect you as I would a sister. -There you have it. We will be brother and sister. We are enough alike -to pass for that. I had intended to do my own cooking, but that will -be your job now. Then, while you are resting quietly and getting back -your health, I will attack the Casino and get back your money.” - -“How will you do that?” - -“By playing. I hate to play, but if I do I have an idea I can win. At -least I can afford to risk a thousand francs and with that I propose to -win back the two thousand you need to take you to Paris.” - -“No, no. You mustn’t play. No one ever wins there. You’ll lose -everything.” - -“Leave it to me. Come on now, it’s decided. That you trust me, is all -I ask. Everything will come out right. In six weeks I promise you I’ll -send you back to Paris with enough money to start your little shop. -Brother and sister,--_n’est ce pas?_” - -She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I am in your hands. You can do -with me as you will.” - -Again he laughed that boyish laugh. “There! don’t look so tragic. -Everything’s lovely. Come on, we’ll get back to the pension.” - -They walked in silence through the exotic gardens. The pink clock in -the tower of the Casino pointed to half an hour after midnight; the -shutters were descending over the entrance doors. He looked at the -place with a new interest. Hitherto it had meant nothing to him. Now -he saw in it an antagonist. He was looking on a battle-ground where he -would win or fall. On the morrow the fight would begin. - -So absorbed was he that he forgot the girl by his side. Then a soft -sound aroused him. He looked down and saw that she was crying. - - -END OF BOOK TWO - - - - -BOOK THREE - -_The Wheel_ - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - -THE TEMPLE OF CHANCE - - -1. - -Monte Carlo is various kinds of a jewel. In the morning it glitters -like a diamond; in the afternoon it gleams like a great pearl of the -Orient; in the evening it glows with the mellow lustre of a sapphire. -It has its moods of invincible beauty. There are times when one wonders -if it is real and not the fabric of a dream. But of all its moods its -glamour is, perhaps, most felt in that mellow moment that precedes the -setting of the sun. From earth and sky exhales a great serenity. In the -golden air, a thousand windows shine like casements of romance, the -sea melts placidly into the tranquil sky, and the mountains breathe -tenderness and calm. - -It was at such a moment, reassuring to the soul, that Hugh, for the -first time, mounted the seven steps that led to the temple of chance. -The sun gleamed on the brass rods of the carpet, gleamed on the gold -braid of the four porters who guarded the entrance, gleamed on the -buttons of the little page boys that swung open the double doors. -Behind the glass partition, leaning on a brass rail, and scrutinizing -every one who climbed the steps, were three detectives. Characteristic -of the place,--the eager welcome; the watching detectives! - -Hugh mounted the steps and paused at the top, just as he had seen so -many others pause to look over the scene. - -Beyond the “Cheese,” the central garden was a vivid emerald, enamelled -with patterns of pansies; a breeze, pure and delicious, rustled the -palms. Daintily dressed children were throwing crumbs to the lethargic -pigeons. A shining Rolls Royce floated past and anchored in front -of the Hotel de Paris, while a tall negro in a swallow-tail uniform -descended in stately fashion and opened its doors. The space in front -of the Café de Paris was starred with striped umbrellas and coloured -with gay groups. The Roumanian orchestra was playing with sparkling -abandon and a crowd was whirling around the “Cheese.” The English -dominated the throng;--tall, thin women with patrician noses, tall, -thin men with grey hair and lean, fresh faces. It was a suave picture -of elegance and ease. - -Turning to the left Hugh entered the bureau of admission. The Nice -train had just come in and behind the high curved counter the clerks -cowered before the clamouring crowd. Seated at a commanding desk was -the chief of the bureau, an owl like man with a crabbed air; he was the -final arbitror, the judge from whom there was no appeal. Before him -was a Swiss aubergiste who was trying to explain that if the clothes -he wore were not good enough for the Casino, he could change them for -better. Another rejected one, a stout woman who had foolishly given her -occupation as a dress-maker, was pointing out that the lady ahead of -her who had just been granted a card was a _femme galante_, one of her -clients who even owed her money. But to such protests no attention was -paid. A blank look, a shrug of the shoulders,--that was all. Judged by -Casino standards and found wanting, they had to go away disconsolate. - -Hugh, however, had no such trouble. A brisk little interpreter bustled -up; and he slipped a bill into the man’s hand. He was pushed forward in -front of the others. - -“This gentleman is known to me,” said the interpreter with fluent -audacity. “He is a celebrated _artist dramatic de Londres_.” - -So Hugh assumed the air of a _jeune premier_, and with many polite -smiles was handed a card. - -“Now,” he murmured, “for the next step in the gambler’s progress!” -A courteous flunkey ushered him into the atrium, a galleried hall -designed to impress the visitor and put him in the proper frame of -mind to enter the Rooms. It was of staid richness, of sober dignity. -Through a vista of marble columns Hugh saw a circular refreshment -counter, and nearby a bulletin board where a group were reading the -latest despatches from the ends of the earth. On leather-padded benches -men were smoking cigarettes, and women gossiping and criticizing all -who passed. Other men and women strolled up and down, taking a breath -of air after a strenuous spell at the tables. He overheard scraps of -conversation. - -“Well, I’ve made my day, but the bank gave me a hard fight for it.” -“Yes, a martingale’s deadly. It will always get you in the end.” - -Looking towards the left he saw three mysterious doors. From the center -one a stream of people was pouring, with an expression on their faces -of either impassivity or disgust, elation was rare. By the side doors -another crowd was entering. Those to the left were eager and excited; -those to the right calm and blasé. These were the respective doors for -the visitor and the habitué. It was through the visitors’ door that -Hugh passed. At last! He was on the threshold of the greatest gambling -room on earth. - -First impression,--nasal. How could people breathe such air? It -struck him like a blow in the face. It was so thick, so richly -human,--a compound of physical exhalations, cheap cosmetics and -disease. It almost daunted him. Second impression,--oral. A confused -murmur of many voices. A discreet rumble, punctuated by the acrid -cries of the croupiers and the click of rakes on counters. Third -impression,--visual. To the right and left were walls of human backs -surrounding pools of light. The light came from green shaded lamps that -hung from heavy cords. Peering over a triple row of shoulders he caught -a glimpse of a green table and a scuttling ball. - -He passed through a smaller room into a great central one. In contrast -with the restful dignity of the atrium it was of a brilliant beauty. -Huge columns of honey-coloured onyx seemed to strike the note of the -decoration. Everything was in the same key, from the padded seats of -yellow leather to the Watteau-like panels painted on the wall. Two -immense chandeliers were tangles of gilt on which lights clustered like -grapes on a vine. Everything seemed to shine, glisten, reflect. Even -the inlaid floor was lustrous with the polish of a million gliding -feet. Just as he had called the smaller room by the entrance the “Grey -Room,” so he called this the “Hall of Light.” From the gleaming floor -to the vast dome it suggested light. - -There were five tables, and each was besieged by gamblers. Those in -the outer row stretched and strained to get their money on the table, -marking the numbers in glazed note-books, shouting their manner of -staking, squabbling and scrambling for their gains. Hugh felt a little -bewildered. - -As he stood there a very curious thing happened. A tall, -distinguished-looking woman, wearing a cream-coloured mantle, advanced -to the centre of the hall. She took from under her mantle a plate of -white china and deliberately let it fall to the floor. At the sharp -crash those nearest turned, and in an instant she was surrounded by -a curious crowd. Then as quietly as she had come she backed out and -disappeared. Two attendants in light blue came forward and calmly -gathered up the debris. The crowd, laughing, returned to the tables. - -While Hugh was wondering what it meant, the affable little Mr. Jarvis -Tope bustled up to him. Mr. Tope wore a white waistcoat and white -spats, and was, as the French say, “pinned at the four corners.” His -round red face was wreathed in a smile of welcome. - -“Ha! young man, so at last you venture into the cave of the dragon. -Well, it’s good to see a fresh face among so many stale ones. What was -all the excitement about?” - -Hugh told him of the lady and the plate. Tope laughed. - -“Oh, is that all! Didn’t you know that to break china on the floor of -the Casino is supposed to change one’s luck? It’s rather a desperate -resort. The lady you saw must have been hard hit. Women believe in -those things, mascots and so on. They bet on the number of their -cloakroom check; they have their favourite tables and believe that -the croupier can control the ball. Every woman who believes in any of -these things is a fool; it’s astonishing how many are fools. Come, I’ll -explain the game to you.” - -Going to what Mr. Tope called the “Suicide Table,” they pushed -themselves into the triple row of standing spectators till they were -behind the seat holders. These had a sphynx-like air of absorption. -Piles of counters were methodically stacked before them, and their -little note-books were scrupulously neat. Some were marking down dots -and zig-zag lines, some columns of figures. They played occasionally -and with deliberation. They were the regulars, the system workers, who -sat every day in the same place at the same table. - -While Mr. Tope was explaining the different methods of playing, Hugh -felt a light touch on his arm. Looking round he saw a sweet if somewhat -over-emphasized face smiling up at him. The girl wore a bonnet that -seemed to be made of tiny lilac flowers, and her hands were daintily -gloved. Hugh thought at first that she had mistaken him for somebody -else. - -“Listen, Monsieur. Lend me a louis. It will bring you luck.” - -But Mr. Tope frowned. “Don’t do it. Pretend you have no money.” - -Hugh awkwardly refused, and with a little grimace the girl went away. - -“One of the parasites of the place,” said Mr. Tope. “The Casino’s full -of them. She spotted you at once for a newcomer. She’s on the watch for -greenhorns. Now she’ll tell her sisterhood that you turned her down, -and you’ll be less pestered. Never speak to a woman you don’t know on -the floor of the Casino. In the end it will cost you money.” - -“I wonder the management doesn’t stop that sort of thing.” - -“They encourage everything that speeds up the gambling. Morality -doesn’t exist as far as they are concerned. All they want is to get -your coin; and in the end they usually do.” - -“Do they get yours?” - -“Oh, yes, I lose sometimes. There’s a class of people who tell you they -never lose. They’re known as the liars.” - -“That was a very pretty girl who spoke to me.” - -“Yes. There’s a story about her. She was engaged to a Frenchman who -went to America and established himself in business. He sent her money -to buy her trousseau, and to pay her passage over. She was crazy about -him, all eagerness to join him; but she was tempted to risk a little -of the money at the tables. In the end she lost it all. She dared not -tell him, so she never answered his letters. Since then she has lived -a hectic existence. She’s an incurable gambler. A ruined life.... But -come, I want to introduce you to two of the oldest habitués of the -Rooms, veterans like myself. Mr. Galloway MacTaggart of Strathbungo.” - -Hugh was forthwith presented to a tall wiry man, who enveloped his -hand in a large dry grip. He had a grim spectacled face and thin-grey -whiskers. - -“Welcome, malad,” said Mr. MacTaggart. “The Fraternal Order o’ the -Veeatic bids ye welcome tae this den o’ ineequity. And noo, if -ye’ll alloo me, I’ll present ye tae the Grand Maister, Mr. Gimp o’ -Cincinnati. Mr. Gimp has the disteenction o’ bein’ the auldest member.” - -Mr. Gimp was small and wiry. He was the neatest man Hugh had ever seen; -even his eyes were neat. He had a puckered pink face, and white silky -hair like the floss of the thistle. His moustache was like a wisp of -cotton. He extracted the thumb of his right hand from the armhole of -his waistcoat and presented two fingers for Hugh to wag solemnly. - -“Gimp’s feeling peevish,” said Mr. Tope. “He’s just won five francs and -lost ten.” - -“Never play the goddamn game,” snorted Mr. Gimp. “When you catch me -putting a cent on those tables, you can call me a goddamn fool and kick -me round the ‘Camembert.’” - -“Well, after coming here for thirty years without missing a season you -ought to have enough of it.” - -“Darned sight too much. No place for a respectable man! Never enter the -Rooms unless I’m obliged to. Just come in now to look for a friend. -A hotbed of crooks and courtesans. Yes, and spies. Look at that damn -inspector edging nearer to see if he can’t hear what we are talking -about. Bah! Look at that woman now. Why, she’d make a rotten egg smell -like a rose. Well, I can’t stand it any longer. I’m off to breathe -God’s good air. Au revoir.” - -With that Mr. Gimp stalked virtuously away. “He’s always like that,” -remarked Mr. MacTaggart dryly. “An’ if ye come in the Casino an ’oor -from noo ye’ll find him smokin’ his cigarette in the atrium. He’s one -o’ the fixtures o’ the place. It wouldna’ be complete withoot him. An’ -there’s a whole lot mair in the same boax. A man frae Brazeel went aff -his heid in the Rooms the ither day. ‘Puir Chap!’ they were a-sayin’, -but I telt them, ‘He’s nae worse nor the rest o’ us. We’re a’ daft in -this establishment.’ Whit’s yer impression o’ it, young man?” - -“I’m surprised to see so many old people in the Rooms.” - -“That’s right. Gamblin’s the last infirmity of ignoble minds. When -folks are ower dodderin’ for wine an’ wimmen, gamblin’s a’ that’s left -tae them. Look at that auld Bianca there. They say she wis the mistress -o’ the King o’ Italy. Whit things she must hae seen! Noo she goes roon -like a spectre mumblin’ an’ breakin’ wind every time she plays. Weel, -I’m feelin’ auld an’ tired masel. Ma nerves are no whit they were. -There’s nae doot it gets ye. It’s a crool, crool game....” - -They sought the fresher air of the atrium and lighting their cigarettes -sat down on a recessed divan of padded leather. - -“MacTaggart is our great hope,” said Mr. Tope. “He is patience and -pertinacity personified. He has now been sitting at the same place at -the same table from the beginning of the play to the end for two years.” - -“For three years,” said Mr. MacTaggart. “I’ve got the record o’ two -hundred thoosand consecutive _coups_.” - -“MacTaggart claims he knows more about roulette than all the rest of us -put together.” - -“So I do. Ye’re like a lot o’ children. Ye ken naethin’. When ye’ve -spent night after night for three years compilin’ an’ analyzin’ -permanencies, ye’ll begin tae hae some glimmerin’ o’ the mysterious -workin’s o’ the laws o’ chance. I’ve studied the game noo for twenty -years and I’m jist beginnin’ tae know a little, a verry little.” - -“Look!” said Mr. Tope, “there’s that poor little Emslie girl waiting as -usual for her mother.” - -On one of the benches near the exit from the Rooms Hugh saw a slight -girl with a very sweet face. Her chestnut hair was braided behind and -her colouring was fresh, and girlish. She sat with her slim hands -clasped in her lap, looking anxious and forlorn. - -“That,” said Mr. Tope, who seemed to know everything and everybody, -“is one of the hardest cases. She’s only sixteen, and has been left a -few thousand pounds by her grandfather. But her mother’s a gambler -_enragée_. She’s lost all her own money, and now they say she’s playing -with the girl’s.” - -At that moment a woman came from the Rooms, and the girl ran to her -eagerly. The woman was tall and handsome, and her face was alight with -joy. Opening her gold chain bag, she showed the girl the contents. They -both laughed, almost hysterically, and went off arm in arm. With a -start Hugh recognized the cream-coloured cape; it was the lady who had -broken the plate. - - -2. - -In the days that followed Hugh came to know the great building -intimately. He gave fanciful names to the various Rooms. Beyond the -“Hall of Light,” as he called the main gambling room, was the “Hall -of Gloom.” In decoration it was heavy, dark, depressing. There was -something Teutonic about it, even to the panels of lumpish Amazons that -filled in the wall spaces. On the only occasion he played there, he -came away whistling the “Dead March.” - -To the right of the “Hall of Light” was a little gem of a room -which contained only one table. He called it the “Room of the Opium -Dreamer,” on account of the exquisitely painted ceiling of naked nymphs -voluptuously sprawling on fleecy clouds. Its windows looked on the -terrace and often he pulled aside the silken blind to marvel at the -radiant beauty of the sea. The air in this room was unusually bad. - -Beyond this was what he called the “Hall of the Three Graces,” on -account of the huge wall panel that dominated it. It represented three -nude women against a Florentine background. Mr. Tope gave him some -curious information about this picture. - -“These,” he said, “were three _demi-mondaines_, frequenters of the -Casino. They claimed to be Swiss: but it turned out that they were -Austrian spies in the pay of Germany.” - -Hugh looked at them with a new interest. - -“When war was declared all three cleared out in a hurry. The directer -himself had to get away. He had, they say, gotten the Casino Company to -acquire the golf links on Mont Agel, and right under the eyes of the -French garrison he had all prepared for the installation of a wireless -outfit. It was an ex-captain of Uhlans. His son made a demonstration in -favour of Germany in front of the Casino and was mobbed.... Oh, this -was a great place before the war, a hotbed of treason. I’m told the -French Government had to put pressure on the Government of Monaco to -clear them out. And now they’re creeping back again.” - - -3. - -Hugh soon came to recognize the various types that frequented the -place. The women known as the skimmers particularly interested him. -They haunted the Rooms, hovering over the tables and waiting for a -chance to grab the stakes of others. They were the cause of most of the -disputes. In the course of an afternoon a dozen of these rows would -occur. As a rule, the croupiers discreetly professed ignorance of the -cause. Although the disputants often called one another nasty names, -Hugh saw them come to blows only on one occasion. - -A Russian woman, said to be a princess ruined by the Bolshevics, was -playing steadily. Twice a Frenchwoman with a face like a bulldog, -reached out and grabbed her winning stake. The Russian looked puzzled, -but said nothing; she only watched and waited. As the Frenchwoman -reached forward a third time she cried “Thief!” - -The Frenchwoman promptly slapped her face. The Russian looked at her in -steady contempt, shrugged her shoulders and turned to go. Then a fury -seized her, and swinging round, she struck the Frenchwoman a violent -blow, clutched at her hat, her hair, tugged, scratched, slapped, a -very wild cat of fury. The attendants separated them. The Russian was -marched off; the Frenchwoman dried her tears and declared triumphantly -that the other would lose her ticket. But presently when the attendants -returned, she, too, was led off. Hugh never saw either of them in the -Casino again. - -He spent long hours studying the play. He took down numbers and poured -over the permanencies. He felt quite at home now. He had a monthly -card, and was confident, even eager to begin. One evening he left the -Rooms with his mind made up. - -“To-morrow I cease to be a spectator. To-morrow I commence to play.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -A GAMBLER’S DÉBUT - - -1. - -“Margot, would you mind coming here a moment?” - -The girl was drying her hands after washing the supper dishes. “Yes, -monsieur.” - -“Oh, I say, I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘monsieur.’ It sounds as if I -were treating you like a servant.” - -The girl was silent. Hugh went on. - -“Why can’t you call me by my first name, as I do you? If you don’t, I -shall think you dislike me.” - -“Oh, please don’t think that. I would do anything to please you.” - -“Then why be so unfriendly?” - -“I don’t mean to. But ... it’s hard.” - -“Why?” - -“Well ... there’s such a difference between us. I am only a poor girl, -a nobody. You are....” - -“No better than you are. Perhaps I’ve had just as hard a struggle in -life as you have. I’ve always been poor. I’m poor now. I want to think -you are my little sister, and I am your big brother. You must do the -same.” - -“I’ll try. Please give me a little time. Perhaps, it will be easier.” - -“All right. And now please come here. I’d like you to look at -something.” - -He was sitting at the table with a big green book before him. Each page -was filled with columns and columns of figures. His face was eager, his -eyes sparkling. - -“You know, I’m going to begin playing to-morrow.” - -“Oh, please don’t. It’s terrible how it gets a hold of you. And in the -end it always means ruin.” - -“You don’t know me. I’m a pretty obstinate sort of chap. I’m going to -gamble. Maybe I wanted to do so all along, and only waited for the -excuse you’ve given me.” - -“What excuse?” - -“To win back the money you lost.” - -“You’re not going to gamble on my account.” - -“Of course, I am.” - -“I will refuse to take the money.” - -“All the same I am going to win it.” - -“After that you’ll stop?” - -“I don’t know.... There, don’t be so frightened. Come closer and look -at these figures.” - -On a sheet of paper he had made the following diagram: - -[Illustration] - -“The seven dots,” he explained, “represent a run of seven or more on -any of the simple chances. The run breaks as you see, then returns -once again. It’s a well-known formation. Well, I’ve got to get that -before I begin to play.” - -“But it doesn’t happen very often,--only three or four times at a table -in the course of the day’s play.” - -“Yes, but I have the run of all the tables, fourteen of them. I can -range the whole place. By glancing over the shoulders of those who are -taking numbers, I can tell if there is anything in my line. When I find -the combination I am seeking, I start staking in louis the sums I have -marked.” - -“You only stake one the second time....” - -“Yes, that’s a buffer. I neither win nor lose if I gain that coup. I -have to do that in order to ease up on my progression. Otherwise it -would increase too rapidly. Then on the third, fourth, and fifth terms -of my progression, I stand to win a louis only, but on the sixth term -I win two louis, and on the seventh term, four. I use this progression -because I have only a hundred louis at my disposal. I want to make a -progression of seven terms, and I want my gains to increase as my stake -increases. The great defect of the ordinary martingale is that you -often find yourself obliged to risk quite a big sum to win a single -unit.” - -She continued to look at the figures frowningly. - -“You see,” he went on eagerly, “to beat me the bank will have to follow -up the first big run of seven or more by a second of eight, after a -single break. Now I have examined a book of the records of the play at -the second table for a whole year, and I haven’t found a single case -of this happening. So you see, I feel pretty safe. I only want to make -three wins a day, three louis. At that rate, in about seven weeks I -shall have all your money back. You can return to Paris, start your -shop, and live happily ever after. Great scheme, isn’t it?” - -“What if you lose?” - -“I can’t. It isn’t conceivable.” - -“In roulette it’s always the inconceivable that happens.” - -“No, I’m quite convinced. Armed with this system, I am going to the -Casino just as confidently as if I were going to draw money from the -bank. Of course, I know it means patience, watching, walking miles -between tables; but that will be fun. I don’t want to win too easily.” - -He continued to pore over his records, and she went softly about her -work. When she had finished she looked toward him. In the shaded -lamp-light his face was joyously eager; he was tapping his white teeth -with his pencil, and his eyes were absorbed. - -“Good-night,” she said timidly. - -“Good-night,” he answered absently, without looking up. - - -2. - -He worked very late over his permanencies and awoke to bright sunshine, -and the fragrance of fresh coffee. - -He had divided the room in two by a heavy green curtain. The part with -the door and the little _cabinet de cuisine_ was the living part; the -other was for sleeping. This he had divided still further by a grey -curtain so that they each had a little compartment with a bed. The girl -seemed doubtful of this arrangement at first. - -“I don’t see why it matters,” he said indignantly, “whether there is a -curtain or a three foot wall between us. Remember we are brother and -sister. Honour and decency are better protectors than bolts and bars.” - -With this fine sentiment he disposed of her objections. There was no -doubt he thoroughly believed it; and when he retired more or less -weary behind his curtain, he slept as calmly as if he were alone in the -room. - -On this particular morning, having slept late and well, he rose -light-heartedly, singing as he dressed. When he entered that part of -the room that served them in common, he found that Margot had set his -breakfast on the table, and was preparing to go to market. She was -dressed like the women of the country, with a shawl over her bright -hair. Each morning she would ask him: - -“What would you like for lunch?” - -“Oh, anything; I don’t care.” - -“No, don’t say you don’t care. You know I like to please you.” - -Then he would think profoundly. “I tell you what, ... Give me ... a -surprise.” - -With a gesture of despair she would go away. She was rather a good -cook, but he seldom noticed what he ate. Now he stopped her as she was -going out. “Had your breakfast?” - -“Oh, yes, long ago.” - -“I wish you would call me in the morning so that we can take it -together. I like you to talk to me while I’m eating. Sit down and talk -now. You’re not in such a hurry. Come, take a cigarette.” - -“You know I never smoke.” - -“I wish you would. It’s so chummy. Anyway, sit down. That’s right. -Your hair’s lovely when it glistens in the sunshine. You know, you’re -looking ever so much better already. Your chin is getting round, and -there is actually a delicate rose colour in your cheeks. Your face is -far more English than French. Some day if you’ll pose for me, I’ll -paint you. This coffee’s awfully nice....” As he rattled on in his gay -manner, the girl listened with a grave smile. There was a curious look -in her eyes, a tenderness almost maternal. - -“I say,” he went on, “I didn’t tell you I went to the Pension Paoli -yesterday. I had a talk with Terese, the black-eyed Terese. She gave me -some news.” - -“Yes, what?” - -“You remember that unsavoury sort of a chap who made such a bad -impression on everybody,--I used to call him the Rat.” - -“I never liked him.” - -“Well, do you know what the mystery was that seemed to surround him? -The poor harmless fellow was a priest, a _curé_ who had slipped -away from his flock, dressed in everyday clothes, and was having a -good time. I don’t blame him, poor devil. He wanted to be free, to -taste life just once, before going back to his black skirts and his -prayer-book. I expect he’s doing bitter penance for it now. He was -recognized by an old abbé and there was no end of a row. He was haled -off by two burly priests, crying like a child.” - -“It just shows how one should never judge people.” - -“And you remember those two Swede women?” - -“They enjoyed eating so much.” - -“Yes, and they declared some one had entered their room and stolen -money? That, too, was wrong. The mother came the other day to the -pension and told madame the money had been found. The girl had put it -between the pages of a very dull novel. When she came to finish the -book she found the bills. So all’s well that ends well.” The girl said -nothing. She remembered that he had once suspected her of taking this -money, and the thought still pained her. “Come on,” he continued gaily, -“let’s go out together. Remember to-day I leap into the arena. To-day -I make my début as a gambler.” - - -3. - -It was half past ten when Hugh entered the Casino. - -The Rooms in the forenoon presented a very different aspect from the -one with which he was familiar. The air, though stagnant, was not -obnoxious. The rumble of voices was subdued to a discreet hum. Only -five roulette tables were running. Every one had an air of knowing -every one else. In place of the fever and scrabble of the afternoon -there was a suave and amiable courtesy. The regular Monte Carloites -were taking advantage of the morning calm to play their systems. Hugh -stood by the table where the majority of the system-players were. They -were mostly ageing men, neatly dressed, bespectacled, business-like. -The records in their tiny note-books were scrupulously kept from day to -day. They played but seldom, and then generally with flat stakes. At -the end of the season their books showed probably only modest gains. -The little old lady who took down the numbers for the Monte Carlo -Gazette worked at this table. Every day, year after year, she sat -there, dressed in rusty black, looking rather sour. She made quite a -lot of money by giving up her place for a small consideration to any -who would pay for it. - -Next to Hugh stood a very shabby old man. His trousers were baggy and -frayed, his braid-trimmed coat of a pattern of a bygone day. He had -a weak chin, bulging eyes, a heavy grey moustache, and a curious air -of faded gentility. He had been pointed out to Hugh as an Italian -nobleman, the Count Viviano, who had gambled away all his estates and -now lived on a small pension. The old man stood for a long time gazing -at the table in a strangely absorbed manner. Hugh, who saw things with -an artist’s eye, noticed that his hands had big veins and a glazed -look. They trembled almost constantly and were the only sign of emotion -in a figure otherwise calm. - -Suddenly the old man began to fumble in the pocket of his waistcoat -and drew forth a blue oblong placque representing a thousand francs. -He waited till the ball had been spun, then reaching over unsteadily, -placed it on the first dozen. He tried to look unconcerned. He lost. -Again the ball was spun and again Hugh saw him fumble, draw out another -pale blue placque, and place it tremblingly on the same dozen as -before. Again he lost. The next time he put a blue placque on both the -first and second dozen. Alas! the third dozen came. He seemed in doubt -whether to stay or go away. His agitation was pitiable. Again the ball -was spun. Many looked at him to see what he would do. Just at the last -moment, he drew from another pocket two more blue placques, and put -one on the first dozen, the other on the third. Was ever such infernal -luck! The second dozen won. - -Curious and commiserating glances were cast at him. - -The old count looked dazed. With shaking hands he took from the inside -of his coat a shabby pocket-book and drew from it all the money it -contained, a hundred franc note and a few small ones. He threw them on -the first dozen. Again he lost. He was broke. - -And as he stood there like a man in a dream, as if to mock him, the -first dozen came again and again. Six times it repeated, and each time -the man seemed to grow older, more crushed, more hopelessly stricken. -He continued to look at the table as if fascinated; then, with the -saddest face Hugh had ever seen, he slowly left the room. - -Another figure now attracted the attention of the onlookers. A -tall man was plastering the table with louis and Hugh recognized -Mr. Fetterstein. He looked the typical captain of industry, solid, -powerful, dominating. His face, slightly Jewish in type, was bold, -and massive. His eyes changed from a twinkle of amusement to a look -of profound concentration. There was something unshakable about him. -He played imperturbably. When he lost, he laughed; when he gained, -he seemed indifferent. At present he was winning. He had covered the -number fourteen and all its combinations. Fourteen came. He repeated, -again putting the maximum on fourteen. There was a murmur. Fourteen -again. Once more he put the maximum on fourteen. The croupier who spun -the ball looked nervous and worried. The _Chef_ looked at him with a -frown, as if to say, “There are thirty-five other numbers. As you value -your promotion avoid the fourteen.” Again the man spun. A great shout -went up.... _Fourteen_. - -As he was paid with the usual impressive deliberation, Mr. Fetterstein -folded up the wad of _mille_ notes he had gained and put them away. -He had won over thirty thousand francs,--but what was that to him, a -millionaire? He went on playing, but the croupier who had been throwing -was changed. - -Hugh saw many people whom he knew, among them the Calderbrook -family. The ladies were playing a lively game and, even this early -in the morning, looked rather excited. On his way out, he passed the -forlorn Emslie girl in the atrium, waiting for her mother, and in the -vestibule, he encountered Mr. Gimp rolling a cigarette. The little man -nodded curtly. His puckered pink face and his snowy white hair gave the -impression of frostiness. - -When Hugh reached home he said to Margot: - -“You know, I was so interested watching every one I forgot to play. -Well, this afternoon....” - - -4. - -In the afternoon the trains and yellow busses from Nice had disgorged -their tourist hordes and turned the Casino into a welter of humid -humanity. There were cheap-trippers taking a flutter, skimmers from the -slums of Nice, sight-seers from every land under the sun, flaunting -_femmes de luxe_, evil faces of the underworld,--the whole mob of -strange invaders which a Monte Carloite finds so little to his liking. -As fourteen tables were running, Hugh soon found an opportunity to try -his system. He made three wins in the course of two hours. In neither -case had he to fall back on his progression. He was elated and having -finished for the day, amused himself by making sketches of the crowd. - -By and by he wandered to the first trente-et-quarante table where a big -game was going on. An American millionairess was playing as high as the -limit allowed. She had before her a heap of pink placques, like cakes -of soap, representing five thousand francs each; she tossed them around -as carelessly as if they had no value. At one end of the table, Hugh -noticed a tall distinguished-looking Englishman with an eye-glass; at -the other, the Twitcher. - -Hugh was admiring the superb insouciance of the American woman, who -had lost twenty-five thousand francs in five minutes when he suddenly -saw the Twitcher throw a bundle of mille notes on the red. There were -evidently twelve of them, a maximum. By Jove! the Twitcher certainly -was going it! Hugh watched with breathless interest. At the same time -he saw the Englishman throw a similar sum on the black. The table was -covered with big notes and placques. Every one awaited the turn of the -cards with breathless interest. - -“_Couleur perd._” - -The Twitcher had lost his twelve thousand francs. His face grew very -pale. Then he reached forward. Just as the croupier was about to rake -in his wad of bills he grabbed them up again, and crammed them into his -pocket. - -“I made a mistake,” he announced calmly. “I meant to play on black.” - -“But Monsieur has lost....” - -“I don’t care. I’ve got my money back. If you want to get it, you will -have to take it from me. But I warn you I will make a desperate fight -for it. It is all I have in the world. If I lose it, I am ruined. I -will then kill myself. All I have, I have lost in this cursed den of -thieves. You won’t get this without a struggle. And again, I warn you, -I am armed.” - -The crowd fell back, seemingly admiring his daring. Two lackeys in blue -and gold advanced threateningly, but the Twitcher put his hand to his -hip pocket in a significant fashion. - -“Look out,” he said quietly. “I am going away. If any one lays a hand -on me I will defend myself.” - -Then with a leisurely gait and air of triumph he walked out of the -Casino. - -The whole thing was over in a moment. The inspectors came crowding -round. The floor director, a bandy-legged, pot-bellied man with a -stubby grey beard, hurried up; he was joined by another man with goggle -eyes and a face like a mulatto. They talked, gesticulated, shrugged -their shoulders. There was nothing to be done. A fracas on the floor of -the Casino, that was inconceivable! Legally they could not claim the -money. It was a gambling debt. Let it go! - -So the storm subsided. The croupiers recovered from their stupefaction. -They raked in the other winnings and paid the winners. Among the latter -was the tall Englishman who had played on black. He did not seem to -understand French. He kept saying: “Mo-ah! Mo-ah!” and point to his -stake. They paid him one by one twelve crisp bills of one thousand -francs each. He deliberately folded up the notes and went away. - -That evening Hugh returned from a walk by way of Beausoleil. Outside -of a café of the lower sort, he saw two men smoking. In spite of the -darkness, he recognized the Twitcher and the tall Englishman. Hugh was -so curious, that he sat down and ordered something to drink. He had not -waited long when two men approached from the other direction. They were -Bob Bender and the detective Krantz. Bob stepped before the drinking -couple. - -“Well, you brought it off,” he said in a not unfriendly way. - -The tall Englishman laughed. “Yes, damn you, we got twelve thousand out -of you.” - -Krantz stepped forward. “Let me congratulate you, gentlemen. It is not -every one gets ahead of us so easily. But we do not forget. I would -strongly advise you to go away immediately.” Again the Englishman -laughed. - -“Bah! What do we care for you now? We have crossed the frontier. -We are on French soil. We snap our fingers at your little tin-pot -Principality.” - -Krantz smiled pleasantly. He spoke in his silky voice, rubbing his -hands together. Again Hugh noticed that the little finger of the right -was missing. - -“We know all about you,” he purred. “We have your record in France, -England, America. We don’t want you here. You had better get out.” - -“What if I refuse?” - -“Refuse! Well....” Krantz rubbed his hands still harder and continued -in his cheerful, chirping way, “Listen....” With his lips he blew a -shrill, peculiar whistle. From the shadow across the road half a dozen -dark shapes detached themselves. - -“After all,” said Krantz, “the frontier is very near, the other side of -the street, to be precise. It would be easy to take you over there by -force. Once we have you, ... there’s no saying what might happen.” - -The Englishman made a grimace. He seemed to reflect. Finally he banged -his hand on the table. - -“You go to hell,” he said. - -Krantz blandly said good-night, and taking Bob Bender by the arm went -quietly away. The mysterious shadows across the street melted again -into the deeper shadow. But the Twitcher and the Englishman did not -laugh any more. Presently the Englishman rose. - -“I expect he’s right. We’d better go.” - -Hugh went thoughtfully homeward. - -“Well, that’s one system,” he said to himself, “that will take some -beating.” - - -5. - -In the weeks that followed he had no difficulty in making his three -louis a day, and in no case did he need to go beyond the fourth term -of his progression. It was sometimes difficult to find the combination -necessary for his _coup_; but once he found it, he played with an -almost mechanical assurance and considered the louis of gain as good as -in his pocket. He had earned it. - -His favourite among the rooms was the “Hall of the Three Graces.” It -was brilliant with many mirrors, and the chandeliers were like cascades -of light. The air was better too. At the end table, sitting directly -under the Three Graces, Mr. MacTaggart played his system. His grave air -of a church elder seemed to be a standing reproach to what he called, -“Them shameless hussies above ma heid.” - -In the pauses between play, Hugh became familiar with the strange -characters of the place. He knew them by their nicknames, and made -sketches of them in his note-book. He never wearied of watching these -_détraqués_ of the game. He would sit for hours on one of the couches -of padded leather, forgetting to play in his absorbed interest. - -Often after he had gained his “day,” he would escape from the fetid -air of the Rooms, from the sordid eyes in the mean faces, from the -monotony of excitement, and seek a quiet corner of the Café de Paris. -There he would sit and smoke, pervaded by a sense of utter content: his -strenuous moment over. The Casino was paying for his tea, his cakes. -The Casino was his banker, his provider, a charitable institution -erected for his benefit. He looked at it, so peaceful in the afternoon -sunlight. No hint of the scrabbling mob behind its biscuit-coloured -walls. - -Perhaps after all it was not so black as they painted it. Perhaps it -did not do all the harm they claimed. People amused themselves, lost -money they could afford to lose, went away satisfied. No, it was a very -charming institution indeed. It was very good to him. It would give him -all the money he wanted. He was drunk with success. He loved the place. - -Then suddenly ... _woof!_ his system went all to pieces. - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -THE SMILES AND FROWNS OF FORTUNE - - -1. - -“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. - - -2. - -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....” - -“I _don’t_ see.” - -“Look here then. Look at this diagram.” - -[Illustration] - -“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. - - -3. - -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. - - -4. - -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. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -SHIFTS AND STRESSES - - -1. - -In his irritation and perplexity, he went for a long walk by the shore. - -“Confound the girl!” he thought. “What right has she to be so proud! -Pride is for those who can afford it. There she was, sick, desperate, -without one _sou_. I saved her from goodness knows what. And now, -behold! When she ought to be humble, she throws up her head, turns -independent, refuses my further help....” - -With his stick he switched savagely at a clump of geraniums that -stained a villa wall. - -“Confounded fool that I was ever to have anything to do with her. These -sudden quixotic impulses! They always lead to trouble. Damn! It was -none of my business. Who could have blamed me if I had let her go her -own way? And yet ... that would have worried me enormously. Her own -way! What would it have been? I’d hate to think of any harm coming to -her. No, I feel I am bound to protect her....” - -He sat down and stared at the sea. He watched the same wave washing -the same rock it had washed for centuries. Its monotonous persistency -soothed his spirit. - -“After all, she’s a jolly, good little sort. She’s made me feel a -fool, though. She knew all along I was only gambling for her sake. She -might have let me know she wouldn’t take the money. Maybe the whole -idea was silly, sentimental.... No, it wasn’t. It was a good sporting -proposition. Any other chap would have done it. Besides, it amused me. -I got all the reward I wanted in the fun of winning. I made gambling a -virtue instead of a vice. I played the knight-errant fighting for the -fair lady with chips for a weapon and a roulette table for the field of -battle.” - -He felt better. He rose and began to flip flat stones over the water. - -“She’s got to take the money. It’s hers. I don’t want it. Why won’t -she take it? If she had been a princess instead of a poor working girl -I could have understood. I don’t mind if she regards it as a loan. -There’s no harm in that. An honest loan. Haven’t I been decent and -honourable? Haven’t I treated her with every respect? Haven’t I been -like a brother to her? Why can’t she accept my aid? Ridiculous, I call -it. Girls are funny. Hanged if a chap can understand them....” Having -had enough of stone flipping, he lit a cigarette and resumed his seat -on the rock. - -“Well, what’s to be done? The present state of affairs can’t go on -forever. I rather wish it could, though--it’s been so nice having her -there. She’s made the place so homey, looked after me so well. Don’t -think I’ve ever been so happy. But there! It would be dangerous to go -further. We have each our own way to make in the world, and our ways -don’t lie together. If she won’t take the money I must do something -else to help her. I have to go on helping her. Poor kid! She’s had a -devil of a time up to now. I’m sorry if I have hurt her feelings.... -I’ll go home and make it up.” - -But instead of going home he found himself drawn irresistibly to that -great “centre of depravity” (as Mr. Gimp called it), the Casino. He -was leaning moodily against one of the columns of the atrium when -the doors leading to the Opera House belched forth a weird crowd of -Monegasques. - -The opera is one of Monte Carlo’s delusions, for though it is widely -advertised as one of the attractions of the place, a large proportion -of the seats are given away to the natives, those descendants of Sæacen -pirates who now plunder the visitor by modern methods. It is as if the -company that exploits the Principality, having planted the Casino in -their midst and forbidden them to enter the gambling rooms, was trying -to make up to them in other ways. The same seats are filled night after -night by swarthy folk, barbarously bedecked in flaunting finery. The -laundress or lodging-house keeper of the Condamine smirks across the -stalls at the butcher or the baker of the upper town, who, in turn, -bows deeply to the bureaucrat who lives on the Rock, and is wondering -if his dress shirt will last the season without another washing. - -As Hugh watched the crowd he heard a voice suddenly address him: - -“You’re not going into that monkey-show, are you?” - -Looking round he saw Mrs. Belmire seated near him, holding an unlighted -cigarette. She wore a gorgeous gown of egg-yolk yellow and pea-pod -green. Under a modified Gainsborough hat, her mahogany-tinted hair -rippled over her shell-pink ears. - -“Give me a light, please! I’m dying for a smoke. Just been in the Rooms -and lost fifty louis. Isn’t it silly of me? I’ve seen you playing quite -a lot lately. Have you been lucky?” - -Hugh was discreet. “No, not very. I play a small game. Just for -chicken-feed.” - -“Well, as long as you don’t lose, you’re lucky enough. I say, you can -take me for tea to the Café de Paris, if you like.” - -Hugh was flattered. They found a place in the restaurant from which -they could watch the dancing. Mrs. Belmire looked rather stunning, and -he was proud of being her escort. They listened to the confident music, -ate chocolate cake and drank insipid tea. - -“I bought two new hats to-day,” said Mrs. Belmire. “They cost a lot of -money. I’m sure when I get them home I’ll hate them. I always like to -have a pal with me, when I chose a new hat. I wish _you’d_ been with me -to help me choose.” - -Hugh expressed a polite regret, with an uneasy feeling that his -privilege in such an event might not be confined to choosing. Mrs. -Belmire went on to talk about herself with an engaging frankness and -almost childlike egoism. She elaborately displayed the confidence that -is supposed to engender confidence; but Hugh was cautious. - -“I suppose you’re going to the automobile show to-morrow,” she said. -“You’re crazy about cars, aren’t you? I am. When my husband was alive, -I used to drive our car myself. I drive a good deal here. My men -friends are very nice to me, and take me for such jolly spins. You must -take me some afternoon. By the way, where do you hang out now?” - -“I’m living in the Condamine,” said Hugh vaguely. - -“Are you? You’re lucky. I have had to give up my apartment. Lost so -much playing at the club that I had to draw in my horns. I’m now -staying at an Italian pension on the sea front,--Pizzicato’s. It’s very -nice. The cooking’s Italian. To-day we had eels for lunch; I didn’t -know they were eels till I had finished, or else I don’t believe I -should have enjoyed them so much. You must lunch with me some day. I -had General Jenkinson yesterday. You don’t know him, do you?” - -“No, I don’t think I do,” said Hugh with a doubtful inflection. - -“Delightful man. Oh, I say, my friend who looks so like you, Paul -Vulning, is on his way here. You’ll probably meet him.” - -All the time she talked--and it was principally of herself--Hugh could -see that she was trying to find out more about him. For his part it -pleased him to baffle her. Her manner was breezy, her voice ringing; -he liked her, and judging by the smiling regard in her nut-brown eyes -she liked him. It was nearly seven o’clock when she said: “There now, -you’ve been awfully decent to me. Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind driving me -to my hotel.” - -Hugh called a voiture and accompanied her to the Pension Pizzicato. At -the door she held his hand. - -“I say, if you aren’t very comfortable where you’re staying, why not -come here? I wish you would. There’s such a nice room next mine, and -not too dear. Do say you’ll take it.” - -Hugh hesitated. “I’ll think over it.” - -“Yes, do. And I say,--won’t you lunch with me to-morrow?” - -“I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got a friend coming to see me.” - -“Bring your friend, too. Tell him you know a very jolly Englishwoman -you would like him to meet.” - -“I’ll see. I’ll ask my friend.” - -She shook his hand warmly. So as not to look cheap he took the voiture -back. It cost him twenty francs, which with the thirty francs for tea -made fifty. - -“A charming woman,” he thought, “but expensive,--damned expensive. I -mustn’t cultivate her.” - - -2. - -He had dinner at Quinto’s Restaurant. He knew that Margot would be -waiting for him at home, but his meeting with Mrs. Belmire had made him -a little arrogant. He resolved to give the girl a lesson. - -“Let her worry,” he said to himself; “it will do her good.” - -After dinner he had intended to take a walk, but the Casino drew -him like a magnet. Good old Casino! So friendly, so inviting, so -generous. Down the long, pansy-patterned sward of the garden, between -the proud palms he could see its portico, goldenly aglow. The big -yellow hotel-bus from Cap D’Ail dashed up to the door, small figures -in evening dress got out and mounted the seven carpeted steps. He -was conscious suddenly that he, too, wanted to play. Yes, more than -anything in the world he wanted to gamble. - -More brilliant than ever seemed the “Hall of Light.” Nearly all the men -were in evening dress. Perhaps it was the influence of Mrs. Belmire, -but for the first time Hugh felt out of place in his serge suit. - -“I must get a dinner jacket,” he thought, “and all that goes with it.” -Then came a second thought: “Why not make the bank buy me one? If I can -win a thousand francs! By Gad! I’ll try it.” - -He had his capital, two thousand francs, in his pocket. He felt -strangely elated. Perhaps it was the flush of his recent success, -perhaps the flask of Chianti he had taken with his dinner. He changed -a note of five hundred francs into the red counters that represent -louis, and began to play a game between two tables. He bet that one -table would not repeat the colour that had just come up on the other. -When he lost he made a progression. It was lively and exciting, and -after playing an hour he found his twenty-five louis had increased by -ten. - -Two hundred francs for his dress suit in sixty minutes,--that wasn’t -bad. Now with his winnings he could afford to be a little reckless; -so as the impair at one table had come up seven times running, he -played pair with a hundred francs,--and lost. Cheerfully he put another -hundred on pair for the next spin: he lost. Too bad! All his winnings -gone. He felt nettled. He would get them back quickly enough. He would -go on backing pair for the break in the run. He put on a hundred: -impair. He doubled: again impair. He martingaled to four hundred: alas! -still impair. - -His feeling of resentment had now given way to one of alarm. He had -lost seven hundred. Then just as the ball was thrown, moved by a -sudden desperate impulse, he tossed the rest of his capital, thirteen -hundred francs, on the table. There ... if he won, he would gain six -hundred francs; if he lost, he would have--the emotion. He felt his -heart beating thickly. He saw a woman close by turn and look at him -curiously. He contrived a careless smile. Then, inexorable as fate, he -heard the colourless voice of the croupier: _Thirteen._ Impair again; -he had lost. - -He stood looking stupidly at his little pile of money, his no longer. -As if to torment him the croupier raked it in with what seemed an -unnecessary show of indifference. It had happened all so quickly. He -was stunned, sick. He looked round, but there was no Mr. Gimp to save -him this time. He felt at that moment he would have traded his soul for -money to go on. A run of fourteen on impair,--it was incredible. - -The woman who had glanced at him was a little old Jewess known as the -“Swallow.” She was dressed in rusty fragments of black crepe, held -together by a host of safety pins. She had a bit of pale blue silk -wound in a weird fashion about her throat, and another bit of the same -in her musty black bonnet. On her hands she had black lace mittens over -rusty black gloves, from the fingers of which her nails emerged. Her -face, covered with a white veil and a thick coating of bluish-white -powder, was precisely like the waxen face of a corpse. - -As his stake was swept away, Hugh saw this ghoulish creature begin to -play on the pair and win time after time. She was taking advantage of -his bad luck. Pair came six times running. He went into the refreshment -room and ordered a brandy and soda. - -While he was drinking it, the old Jewess waddled in. The black tail -of her dress, which gave her her name, wiggled after her. She ordered -coffee, then fumbling in a mildewed looking bag, took from it the black -stump of a cigar and lit it carefully. She sat puffing her cigar, -and watching Hugh, the black eyes in her corpse-like face snapping -with pure malice. He gulped down the rest of his brandy and went out -quickly. He hated the place, loathed it. - -As he descended the long, sloping road to the Condamine, the lights -seemed to glitter in cruel mockery. The harbour lamps turned to green -and red serpents wriggling on the varnished blackness of the water; the -lamps of the quay thrust downward silver octopus-arms. Everything was -reptilian, abhorrent. He was ruined. - -Softly he crept up to the familiar room. The lamp was turned low and a -simple supper set for him. In every corner he could see some evidence -of Margot’s neatness and care. She was sleeping; he heard her steady -breathing from behind the curtain. For the first time he pulled it -aside a little, and peered in. Her hair was a bright disorder on the -pillow. She had been crying a good deal for her eyes were red and -swollen. He would have liked to waken her, to beg her forgiveness. As -he turned away he saw on the table where he had left it, the envelope -containing the two thousand francs. - -The sight hardened him. She was still too proud to take it. He, too, -could be proud. If it came to a contest of wills, he would prove -himself the stronger. He sat down, sullen, bitter, brooding. Then -temptation came to him. He looked at the money lying in the envelope. -It was hers, absolutely hers but ... why not borrow it, play with it, -win back what he had lost? He felt sure he could win this time,--sure. - -Bah! what a demoralizing business gambling was! Here he was throwing -all his pride to the winds, wanting to sneak away with this money that -was to establish her in business, to risk it on the tables. How ashamed -he would be if she knew! But she need not know. He could return it in -an hour’s time. After all, in a sense, was it not his? Had he not a -right to borrow it? He took it up, then laid it down again. - -“No, damn it! It’s not playing the game.” - -Then after another spell of morose musing, his hand went out to it once -more. - -“Well, there’s no use leaving it there. I might as well put it in my -pocket.” - -He did so, and then continued to sit moodily staring at the lamp. He -began to fidget restlessly. Finally he said: - -“I don’t feel a bit sleepy. I’ll just go back to the Casino and watch -awhile.” - -Already, having money in his pocket, he began to feel better. As he -climbed the long hill, he knew quite well what he was going to do. Even -as he entered the “Hall of Light” he was thinking: - -“The pair played me a scurvy trick to-night. It owes me a good turn -now.” - -Going to the same table he laid a thousand francs on pair. He lost.... -He was becoming callous. These flimsy bits of paper no longer -represented real money. He threw the second of them on pair. If he -lost, what matter! He would then be finished, purged clean, cured of -gambling forever. A good job too. Let him lose.... He won. He saw them -lay a thousand franc counter beside his bill. He looked at the two -contemptuously. With a nod to the croupier he left them there for the -next spin. He even strolled away a little and watched the play at the -neighbouring table. A curious and thrilling sensation this,--to know -that your fate is being decided behind your back. Looking round, as -if casually, he saw that the ball had dropped and that they were not -raking in his money. Then he saw them add to it two other counters of -a thousand each. With a hand that trembled a little he took up four -thousand francs and went home. - -The lights were joyous again, the place adorable. So he thought, as he -hurried to their quiet room. Softly he replaced the two thousand francs -in the envelope. He listened again to her breathing. Once more he -peeped through the curtain. Her face was like that of a tired, fevered -child. He felt a curious surge of affection for her, a warmth that was -nigh to tenderness. With a happy sense of her nearness, he sought his -own bed and immediately fell asleep. - - -3. - -On rising next morning, he found she had set the table for breakfast, -but the envelope was gone. - -“I’m going away,” she told him. “I’ll do anything you ask. I don’t want -to be a bother to you.” - -“Don’t think I want to be rid of you. Still you must see that, all -things considered, it will really be for the best.” - -She was pale, but seemed cheerful and resigned. All day she went about -making her preparations for departure. - -“I’ll take the train for Paris to-morrow,” she announced. - -He was unprepared for the suddenness of her going. - -“Oh, not to-morrow,” he said; “wait till the day after. We’ll spend -to-morrow together, go picnicking.” - -She agreed and they took the train next morning to La Turbie. They -made a fire among the rocks and ate a cold paté, cheese and fruit, as -happy as two children. Hugh went to get some water to make tea. When he -returned, he found the girl cowering at the foot of a big rock. She had -slipped and fallen, while gathering flowers. The distance was about ten -feet. She was all right, she assured him, excepting her foot which hurt -her badly. She could not walk, so he had to lift her and carry her to -the road. He was greatly distressed. At the village he got a _voiture_ -and they returned slowly to Monte Carlo. - -He summoned a doctor who said that she had sprained her ankle badly -and must rest for a week or two without putting her foot to the ground. - -“That’s very awkward,” she told the doctor. “I intended going to Paris -to-morrow.” - -“Impossible, madame,” he said; Hugh also echoed the word, “Impossible.” -She submitted to this decision with a resignation that was almost too -cheerful. Hugh was sympathetic gentleness itself. He did the marketing -with the joyousness of a boy, and even attempted to cook under her -direction. Whenever he found himself free, he hastened to the Casino to -gamble; roulette was rapidly becoming an obsession with him. - -Propped with pillows in the big wicker arm-chair he had bought her, -Margot would sit and watch him. How his teeth gleamed when he laughed. -She loved the look of him, tall, slim, with his fair hair brushed -smoothly back, his fine sensitive face, his eloquent dark eyes. He made -a graceful picture even when swathed in a white apron and frying eggs. - -“He is so good, so kind, so patient,” she sighed. “My conscience hurts -me. Oh, if he only knew I slipped from that rock on purpose.” - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -THE GAMBLER’S PROGRESS - - -1. - -In two weeks Margot was able to limp about; and, as nothing more -was said about her departure, she quietly reassumed her household -duties. Hugh was happy. He was free to gamble. Morning, afternoon -and evening he was at the Casino. He invented fantastic systems and -enthusiastically tried them out, or like a hawk hovered over a table -watching for a likely chance. A picker-up of unconsidered trifles, he -called himself. He was patient, prudent, intelligent. He believed in -the calculation of chances; and, best of all, he had an intuition that -was reasonably reliable. He loved the game, but most of all he loved -to turn out his pockets in the morning, and to hand Margot a fistful -of money with the remark: “There! that’s for the house. By Gad! it’s a -great thing to live on the fat of the land at the cost of the Casino.” - -One day while doing her marketing the girl was stopped by a tall dark -man. She stared a moment. She could scarcely believe her eyes: Florent -Garnier. How changed! He was stout, prosperous-looking, even pompous. -He had a fancy waistcoat, with a heavy gold chain, a broad-brimmed -Borsolino, and a diamond pin sparkling in a rather loud tie. Yes, he -was a big, handsome, important-looking man. - -“Ha! ha! You are surprised, my little Margot,” he laughed. “I’m -altered, am I not? When you saw me last, I was the lean Parisian -workman. You remember I was thrown into prison. That rascal Popol,--he -croaked in Laboisiniere. Black smallpox. Good job! I’d have killed him -when I got out. Well, soon after that, my uncle, a big contractor in -Lyons, died leaving me everything. I’m a rich man now.” - -“Then you’re not a socialist any more?” - -“_Bon sang!_ No! How can I be? I’m a _patron_. Socialists don’t believe -in _patrons_. No one remains a socialist after he has acquired a little -property. It changes one’s ideas entirely. Socialism is for those who -have nothing and don’t see any prospect of having anything, except by -grabbing from those who have. We’re all on the grab, the Socialist as -much as every one else. Oh, I know them. The leaders are exploiters of -the proletariat. Socialism is only a stepping stone to political power.” - -They were in the market place, close by the rock of Monaco. Margot had -a _filet_ of vegetables on her arm, a shawl on her head. As he talked -Florent gesticulated, a big diamond ring flashing on his brown hand. - -“Yes,” he went on, “socialism is based on a wrong conception of human -nature. It believes that if you scratch the man, you find the saint; -whereas what you really find is the savage. Human nature is selfish and -nothing will ever change it. Socialism believes in the unselfishness of -human nature. That’s its fundamental error. Then again, it’s contrary -to justice. It believes in paying all workers equally. The good -worker is to receive the same wage as the poor. That is unjust. Yet -the moment you begin paying one man more than another you institute -capitalism.... But there! Come, let us sit at that café under the -arches and talk of yourself. What are you doing? Not married, I hope.” - -“No, I’m housekeeper to an English gentleman.” - -“Ah! I’m not married either. Not for want of chances though. Somehow -there’s no one I fancy. Listen, Margot,--let’s go to Nice this -afternoon, if you can get away from your place. Say it’s your cousin. -Do come. We’ll have a good time.” - -After supper that night as Hugh sat pouring over his permanencies, the -girl looked up from her sewing. - -“You will be surprised to hear I had an offer of marriage this -afternoon.” - -He gazed at her abstractedly. “No, I’m not surprised. You’re really -awfully sweet, you know. I expect you’ve had many. Well, I hope he’s a -fine chap.” - -“Yes, he is. He has a big business and makes lots of money.” - -“Good. That’s the great thing,--money! You know, I think this system -I’m working on will make lots of money. Already it’s made a fortune on -paper. Well, when’s it coming off?” - -“What?” - -“The marriage, of course.” - -“Oh, I’ve not accepted him. I don’t want to marry. I’m too happy as I -am.” - -“What! Refuse such a good offer! Are you crazy?” - -“Maybe. You see I’m foolish enough to think that one should love the -man one marries, and I don’t love this one.” - -“I accept the rebuke. Well, my dear girl, don’t make any mistake. At -the same time I’d be sorry to lose you just yet. We seem to rub along -so nicely together.” - -“Do we? Then you don’t want me to marry?” - -“Why, certainly. If you find the right man. My dear child, your -happiness will always be my first consideration.” - -“Do you still want me to go back to Paris?” - -“Please yourself about that. I must admit I’m beginning to get so used -to you I’d miss you awfully.” - -With that he took his hat and went off to the Casino. She was used to -his brusque ways, but she looked after him rather anxiously. He seemed -to think of nothing now but his hateful roulette. At meal-time he ate -abstractedly and over his cigarette he stared thoughtfully at columns -of figures. He took little notice of her. She was jealous; jealous of a -game of chance, jealous of the wheel. - - -2. - -He was, indeed, becoming more and more engrossed. He spent hours -talking to that profound student of roulette, Galloway MacTaggart. One -evening he told the big spectacled Scotchman of the time he had so -nearly come a cropper. - -“Ah! ma lad,” said MacTaggart, “if it’s the simple chances ye want tae -play, don’t play the pair and the impair. They’re the maist treacherous -o’ the three. The black and red are the maist popular. The colour -catches folk’s fancy. But for steady, logical playin’, play the passe -and the manque. There’s no many do it, but Ah’ve tested it oot, an’ -it’s the maist conseestent o’ the three. I can’t tell ye why, but there -ye are.” - -Mr. Gimp put him onto another twist in the game. “When you see a big -bunch of money staked on one of the simple chances, put a louis on the -opposite one. You’ll have a win three times out of five. It stands to -reason. You’re playing with the bank instead of against it. And you -know the bank’s winning a million a week.” - -Learning a little here, and a little there, Hugh became more and more -identified with that crafty band that contrives to make a living out of -the Casino. Their numbers are few but their tenacity undeniable. Year -after year these lean, neat men and fat, frowsy women manage with a few -hundred francs of capital to scratch up the daily louis or so necessary -to provide them with food, shelter, and clothing. They are known as the -Limpits, because they hang on. Their faces are anxious until they have -made what they call “the material”; then they relax pleasantly. - -He was a member of the inner circle, one of those who meet at the -Casino as at a club, discussing the gossip of the moment, the latest -plunger, the latest _decavé_, the latest suicide. Jarvis Tope was the -recognized president of the Casino Gossip Circle. He seemed to know -everything and everybody. - -“You remember,” he said one day, “that Italian nobleman, the Count -Viviano, old, dried-up, proud-looking fish; said to have gambled away -lands, castles, fortunes over these tables? Well, he was found last -week in a bare room in Beausoleil; nothing in it at all, nothing. He -was lying stark naked on the floor, a perfect skeleton. Literally -starved to death.... Ah! there’s the Princess. I see she has pawned her -set of sables. Poor thing! Excuse me, I must go and inquire after her -health.” - -He toddled after a weird looking Russian woman who was said to have had -all her family massacred by the Bolshevics. - -Hugh became more and more conscious of a growing air of suspicion -in the Rooms. The inspectors seemed to be keeping an unusually close -watch scrutinizing all who played with unwonted keenness. There was an -anxious expression on the faces of the directors who emerged from the -mirror doors that open by hidden springs. And one day in a circular -window high over the “Hall of Lights,” Hugh saw a peering face; that of -Krantz, the great Krantz, and he, too, looked anxious. - -It was Mr. Gimp who enlightened him. Mr. Gimp took from his pocket a -reddish counter with “20” marked on it in silvery letters. - -“What’s that? Tell me?” he asked, handing it to Hugh. - -“Why, it’s a chip for a louis,--Casino money.” - -“Yes, it’s a chip for a louis, but is it Casino money?--that’s the -question--I don’t know. You don’t know. They don’t know. Nobody knows.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I mean that it may be Casino money, or it may be an exact imitation. -When I say _exact_ I mean so perfect that not even an expert with a -magnifying glass can tell the difference. You couldn’t even call it a -counterfeit, for it may be a duplication of Casino money. Don’t you see -what they’re up against? Since the war they can’t play with silver and -gold. They’ve got to issue these damn things and any crook can make -them. Once they’re in circulation who’s going to tell them from the -genuine ones?” - -“But can they do nothing to check it?” - -“What can they do? If it was a case of the big blue hundred franc -chips they might keep some sort of tabs on them. They are all numbered -and the numbers only run up to ten thousand. But when you come to the -louis counters there must be about a million of them and they have no -distinctive mark of any kind. It’s them that make the Casino people -such an easy mark. You see notices all over the place imploring you to -cash in before you leave the building, but half of the players don’t -do it. They take the chips away in their pockets. They are used around -the town like cash; they are accepted as payment for hotel bills. -It’s impossible to keep track of them. Why, they say there are over a -hundred thousand francs worth of false counters in circulation right -now. And the number’s increasing every day. There’s a gang hard at work -this very minute shooting them out. I tell you, son, it’s one of the -slickest gangs that ever hit this dump. No one knows who they are. I -may be one of them. You may be one of them.” - -“Thank you.” - -“Oh, I’m speaking just to demonstrate my point. No one knows anything -about any one else in this place. For all I know you may be in the pay -of the police, or for all you know I may be. Between friends, though, -I’m neither a crook nor a detective, but just a common or garden -boob--like yourself.” - -“They must be worried, the outfit upstairs?” - -“Yes, I guess they’re lying awake nights, some of ’em. For don’t you -see, a man can play with the counterfeit chips, and if he loses, no -matter. But if he wins they pay him real chips and he is in right. He -goes on calmly playing with the bank’s own money. Oh, it’s a cinch! And -the point of the joke is that there is no law against it. You’re not -counterfeiting money, you’re counterfeiting counters. And for gambling -purposes, too. Why, if they found you out, I don’t believe they could -legally do anything to you. Anyway they would never bring such a case -into court. They ain’t seeking publicity of that kind. Nop, the worst -they could do would be to fire you over the frontier and take care you -never came back. I tell you I rather admire the bunch that are putting -this thing over. If I was broke and desperate, I’d do the same.” - -“And what do you suppose the Casino crowd are doing about it?” - -“Everything they can. Taking away the cards of every one they suspect. -Watching us all. Krantz is a cute one. It’s only a question of time -before he gets on.... By Christopher! pipe that man coming out of the -Rooms. That man’s your double; that’s the Honourable Paul Vulning.” - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -A SLAVE OF THE WHEEL - - -1. - -Looking in the direction in which Mr. Gimp’s finger pointed Hugh saw a -tall, slim man sauntering across the hall. He had fair hair, brushed -smoothly back, and features of the conventional English regularity. - -“He’s like you and yet he ain’t,” commented Mr. Gimp. “You’re fresh and -he’s a bit used up. He’s just what you’d be like in ten years’ time if -you went the pace something fierce. A gay dog! He’s got a villa up on -the hill. They say there are strange goings on at that same villa. He’s -got a swell car, too. He owes all over the place, but he always seems -to have heaps of cash to spend. That’s Mrs. Emslie speaking to him. A -terrible woman, she is. I expect she’s trying to borrow from him. She’d -do anything for money, that woman. She’s getting so desperate.” - -“Pity for the daughter!” - -“Yep, poor kid. Say, I saw her on the terrace early this morning, all -alone in the corner beside the baths. So I went up and I says: ‘Well, -Honey, how goes it?’ She turned round, and blamed if she wasn’t crying. -‘Couldn’t be worse,’ she says. ‘We’ve lost everything. Mother won’t -stop. She’s borrowing from all sorts of horrid people. I think she’s -mad. I don’t know what’s going to become of us.’” - -“What will become of them?” - -To this Mr. Gimp replied only by an eloquent shrug of his shoulders. - -Hugh watched Paul Vulning with a curious fascination. As Vulning stared -superciliously at the crowd Mrs. Emslie talked to him feverishly, -trying to hold his attention. Then they sauntered away together. - -“You see that big jolly man,” Mr. Gimp observed, “the one with the -black skull cap. Well, that’s the slickest player ever hit this -skin-game joint. That man never loses. They call him ‘Cheero,’ because -every time the zero comes up he calls out: ‘Cheero.’ That man’s always -smiling. He goes about his business quietly, but believe me, he’s just -salting away the dough. He claims he can hypnotize the croupiers and -make them throw where he wants.” - -“What rot!” - -“No more rot than lots of other systems.... See that tall woman in -grey just crossing the hall. Nobody knows who she is, and what’s more, -nobody’s ever seen her face. She always wears that thick veil. They -call her _Number One_, because she goes from table to table, always -playing on the number one. At night she goes off to Nice in a covered -car. Some say she’s an Indian Princess, some say it’s cancer. Any -way, nobody knows what’s behind that veil. She’s one of the Casino’s -mysteries.” - -“What queer characters!” - -“Queer! Why, we all get queer if we stay here long enough. I’m queer. -You’ll get queer. MacTaggart’s getting queerer every day. Yep, it’s a -queer place.... Say, if I was a writing man I could make a dozen books -out of it. There’s a mine of material here. It’s fantastic; it ain’t -real. It’s a stage show. Yes siree, it’s the queerest place on earth.” - -They sauntered over to the “Hall of Gloom,” and sat on a padded bench -near the door of the private rooms. As they watched the stream of -people coming and going, Hugh noticed two ladies, one matronly, the -other old and decrepit. They were dressed alike, with big roses in -their hats and feather boas. - -“Mother and daughter,” said Mr. Gimp. “They’re known as the two Roses. -The mother’s over eighty, but she simply cannot stay away from the -Rooms. She sits at the table, her face level with the cloth, her hands -clutching a few counters. Sometimes she has fits and has to be carried -out. She should be on her knees in some church instead of goggling and -gasping over that bloody board.... There was another old lady, nice, -serene, gentle, fat, who used to be known as ‘Queen Victoria,’ because -she resembled the late Queen. She held a kind of levée every day in -the Rooms. But her friends took her home to England, and they say she -nearly died of lonesomeness there. There’s lots like that, old folks -tottering on the edge of the tomb. They’d die in the Rooms if you’d let -’em.... Just look at that table over there. There’s a man that’s blind -and beside him a woman that’s paralyzed. I tell you, folks come here -that have to be carried to the table. They’re half dead.” - -“Do many die in the Rooms?” - -“Suicide? Not on your life. It’s considered bad form. As the English -say: ‘It’s a thing that’s simply not done....’ By God! if I wanted to -do it, I’d give ’em a jar. I’d go to that centre table and lean well -over the wheel; then I’d start pumping lead into my bean. I’d cover -that table with gore. A bucket of blood. I’d spatter my brains over -the damned croupiers. I can see the _Chef de Partie_ wiping them out of -the corner of his eye....” - -“What a ghastly idea! I hope you’re not seriously thinking of such a -thing.” - -Mr. Gimp cackled with laughter. “You don’t know me, son. I’m not -that sort. Still I’ve got a kind of idea in my old head I’ll make a -sensational exit. I have a notion that when I go, I’ll go with a bang. -I don’t just know how, but there it is....” - - -2. - -In the week that followed Hugh saw a good deal of Paul Vulning. -The latter liked to swing round the “Cheese” in his long low -carmine-coloured car. He leaned back, driving with studied nonchalance. -On one occasion, he narrowly shaved Hugh and Mr. MacTaggart. The big -Scotchman shook a wrathful fist after him. - -“The dawmed swanker! Ye’d think he wis rinnin’ the place. Ah’ll gie him -a puck on the gub yin o’ thae days that’ll teach him tae look doon his -neb at folk better than himsel’. I’ve got ma eye on him. I’ve seen him -aboot a lot wi’ Mrs. Emslie lately. Ye can tak’ me word for it he’s up -tae nae guid.” - -And sure enough the very next day Hugh saw Mrs. Emslie and her daughter -in the carmine car. Vulning had a squint-eyed chauffeur who sat with -him as he drove. The mother and girl were behind. On their return -he saw them again; but this time, June Emslie was in front with the -chauffeur, while Vulning was behind with the mother. - -That evening, he met the two women once more,--this time on the Avenue -des Fleurs. As he passed them in the darkness, he heard the mother’s -voice tense with anger. He never again saw the daughter waiting in the -atrium, but Mrs. Emslie, her white cheeks painted, her eyes burning, -gambled more desperately than ever. - -Hugh himself was trying a new system which was behaving rather -decently. He put two louis on the manque and a louis on one of the -transversals of the passe. If it came manque he won a louis; if he -struck the transversal he won seven louis. He did not play until -certain indications told him he had the odds in his favour. He had to -a curious degree that sense of probability which is so valuable to the -player of roulette. Occasionally he had a hard tussle with the bank, -but on the whole he averaged a hundred francs a day. In addition to -this he made two louis for the running of the house. He was greatly -pleased and used to say to Margot: - -“Isn’t it jolly to think that every mouthful we eat, we make the Casino -pay for? Doesn’t it make the food taste ever so much sweeter?” - -“That’s not much of a compliment to my cooking.” - -“You’re cooking’s delicious, my child. It’s the things you don’t cook. -By the way I made a couple of louis extra to-day, so here’s something -for you. You can regard it as a present from the _Société_.” - -The gift was a pair of suede gloves. It was a joke of which he never -tired, that of giving her a present and saying: “With the compliments -of the Casino.” - -He had come to love their big bright room. It was a refuge, a -retreat from the fever and fret of the tables. Here was reality, the -simple things that mattered; there, a false splendour, a theatrical -pretentiousness. Margot considered his growing fondness for home a -victory for her, and increased her efforts to make it attractive. -She bought many little furnishings, so that the living part became -extremely comfortable. But behind the big green curtain their sleeping -arrangements remained unchanged. The small grey curtain divided -his part from hers. This curtain seemed to him to have a definite -significance. It was the symbol of his honour. It was the frailest of -barriers, yet by the expression of his will it had become more solid -than a sheet of steel. It seemed curious at night to think that she was -so close. He often heard her breathing. Perhaps she was his for the -taking. But then she trusted him. He would open his eyes and look at -the grey curtain with a certain grim exultation. Good job it was grey. -Maybe if it had been orange or crimson, or some colour that appealed to -the senses, he might have been tempted to tear it aside.... But grey -had a sobering effect. - -Not that he would have yielded to temptation. He was not that sort, -he told himself. If any such intention had ventured into his mind, -he would have stamped on it as he would on a snake. He had pride and -strength. He was clean-minded, cool-blooded. He was equal to the -situation he had created. Yet it was oddly pleasant to have her so -close to him. What did she think? he sometimes wondered. She, too, -accepted the situation and played the game as honourably as he. They -were like brother and sister. - -He had to admit that every day she was growing more attractive. As -if to please him she had taken to dressing her hair in the English -fashion; parting it over the forehead, and massing it in a thick pleat -at the nape of her neck. The slight hollowing of her cheeks and the -sweetness of her mouth reminded him of Rossetti’s women. She did not -have much colouring; her skin was like ivory, and the faint pink of -her cheeks that of a sea shell. He made a good many sketches of her; -and told himself that some day he would paint her portrait. - -But, for the time being, the Goddess Roulette claimed him as her own. -She brooked no rival. There in the gaiety and the golden sunshine, -he thought roulette, dreamed roulette, lived roulette. He was a -worshipper among a host of worshippers, their temple the Casino; and -few worshippers at a sacred shrine are so devoted. - -One night he had a dream. - -_The vast hollow of the sky seemed to be the bowl of a mighty wheel. -The ball rolled with the long menace of thunder and shot into its slot -like a lightning stab. Beneath the shadow of this sinister wheel, the -air was grey with fluttering bank-notes, the earth was like an ant-heap -of fevered, frenzied men and women. As they leaped at the money it -nearly always evaded them. With each leap they grew more feeble. Then -he noticed that the ground beneath them was a quagmire, into which they -were sinking. Their struggles plunged them deeper and deeper into the -ooze, until they disappeared from sight. But no sooner had they gone -than others took their place. They, too, leaped and clutched at the -elusive fortune, only to sink in turn. And over them the great shadowy -wheel rumbled and flashed, taking the place of God and the stars_.... -It was all so vivid that he awoke shuddering and crying aloud: “The -wheel! The wheel!” - -But no dream could damp his ardour, nor cloud his happiness. He was -superbly happy. He told himself it was because of the beauty and -charm of the place. Monte Carlo in its setting of primitive grandeur, -glutted with luxury, and gorged with light; man’s insolent triumph -over nature; a cocotte of price poised amid the eternal verities of -mountain and sea. He adored it. Its keynote was joy. Life glittered -and sang. Every day was a fête day. He loved the feeling that he was -part of it, one of its gay pleasure-seekers. That was the side of it he -chose to see. What if there was another, a sinister one! As far as he -was concerned it did not exist. Ruin, suicide, misery, all these were -lies of blackmailing journalists. The gambling was a harmless diversion -indulged in by people who lost what they could afford to lose. Those -who fell were only the weak who would have gone to the wall in some -other way. No, it was the most adorable place on earth. - -One evening as he climbed the long hill to the Casino, his thoughts -were of the pleasantest. The night was rich with velvet darkness. A -sense of rain lurked in the crystal purity of the air, a soft reluctant -rain that might come before morning. On the concrete blocks that -protect the harbour the little lights of fishermen made swirls of gold, -and their nets moved round and round, scooping up the fish attracted by -the glow. The water of the harbour was as black as patent leather, and -the quay lamps shot down long bright stems that sprouted into silver -foliage. The few lights on the dark heights of Monaco seemed only to -accentuate its mystery. - -He stood for a while where the white bust of Berloitz springs on a -shaft of marble from a patch of purple pansies. He looked past the -fiery frontages of the vast hotels, to where, above them all, the -cornice of the Riviera Palace appeared like an agraffe of pearls. He -inhaled deeply the breath of the sea. How well he felt! Never since -the year before the war, when he played cricket and football, had he -felt so fit. He was a man again, ready to tackle the job of life. - -As he walked past the band-stand the Casino windows made panels of -orange against the biscuit-coloured stone. No, he would not play again -that night. One must not abuse one’s luck. He had already made three -hundred francs. He had now a thousand of the bank’s money to gamble -with. To-morrow he would buy ten chips of a hundred francs each and -play with them instead of with louis. He was full of confidence. -To-morrow the battle again; to-night the joy of victory. He rounded -the corner where the grounds of the Casino overhang the station, and -entered the quieter garden beyond. Finding a shadowed seat he sat down -to smoke. He was soon in a happy reverie. - -A rock garden close by formed a small plateau on which was a pergola. -Suddenly his attention was drawn to it. He saw two people emerge from -the shadow. At first he thought they were lovers; then he noticed they -were struggling. As he bent forward trying to pierce the darkness he -heard a woman’s faint cry of distress. Rising swiftly, he ran towards -them. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - -PLUNGING - - -1. - -A man in evening dress was holding a girl and trying to draw her closer -to him. - -“Leave me alone,” she moaned; “let me go or I’ll scream for help. I -will, I tell you....” - -“You little fool! As if a kiss or two would hurt you. Come on, I’ve got -the car down below. Let me take you for a spin.” - -“No, no. Let me go home to mother.” - -He laughed. “You know your mother’s in the Casino playing the -fool, with money I lent her,--the last, by God! she ever gets from -me,--unless you are more amiable. I say, let’s go over to Ciro’s and -have something.” - -“Oh, please let me go. You’re hurting me. I must find mother. She -wouldn’t like me to be alone here.” - -“Bah! As long as she can gamble, your precious mother doesn’t care two -pins what you do. Why, she knows you’re with me. She’s got an extra -thousand to-night to keep out of the way. Come on, be reasonable! I’ll -save your mother yet; but you’ve got to be pretty nice. Here, another -kiss....” - -“Oh, no. Please don’t. You forget yourself. You’ve been drinking. Let -me go, I say, let me go....” - -His answer was to clutch her more fiercely. With a sudden wrench she -freed herself and broke away. He stood swaying for a moment, then with -a drunken laugh sprang after her. His arms were once more about to -close around her when Hugh leapt forward and dealt him a blow. The man -went down. - -The girl had turned. In the radiance of an arc-light Hugh saw her -fear-distorted face. - -“Miss Emslie!” - -“Yes, yes,” she panted. “Oh, please help me. I’m afraid....” - -“You needn’t be afraid. I’ll deal with this chap.” - -“I don’t know you, but I’ve seen you often. How can I thank you....” - -“Never mind about that. Run home to your friends.” - -She vanished. As the man rose Hugh recognized Paul Vulning, his face -flushed with wine and deadly with rage. - -“You young devil, you! Why did you do that?” - -“Because under the circumstances it seemed the proper thing to do.” - -“Is it the proper thing to interfere in an affair that doesn’t concern -you?” - -“Her friends are my friends.” - -“Who the devil are you? I’ve never met you. If it were not for these -fellows there I’d thrash you.” - -“These fellows” were two firemen who had appeared from the shadow. -Probably they had been there all the time but had not judged the moment -opportune to intervene. Hugh laughed. - -“We needn’t let that stand in our way. If there’s thrashing to be done, -I expect we can find lots of quiet places down on the beach.” - -“I would be a fool to do that. I don’t know who you are. You may be a -crook for all I know.” - -“I may be. You don’t know me. But I know you for a rotter and a cad.” - -Paul Vulning’s face grew purple in its fury. Throwing discretion to -the winds, he rushed and swung a heavy blow. The two firemen valiantly -tried to come between them, and one of them received the vicious swing -intended for Hugh. Angered, he too struck out. There threatened to be a -general mix-up, when a voice, suave but edged with authority, made them -all turn. - -“Gentlemen, gentlemen, what’s this about? Do you want to be arrested?” - -A tall dark man, with a lean intelligent face and a bland smile, seemed -to have sprung from nowhere. It was Krantz. He continued smoothly: - -“I would strongly recommend you both to go home. You know, gentlemen, -we don’t want trouble in the Principality. Peace, perfect peace is our -ideal. Be advised, messieurs: go home.” - -Paul Vulning’s jaw had dropped, and he was staring at Krantz with a -look that was half fascination, half fear. Then with a glower of hate -at Hugh, he strode away. - -The next day, as he had planned, Hugh played with placques and won a -thousand francs. On his way out he met Mr. Gimp. The little lean man -seemed agitated as he fumbled over “the makings.” He pursed out his -underlip grimly. - -“Heard the news?” - -“No.” - -“Mrs. Emslie ... she’s gone ... the veronal route....” - - -2. - -One morning Hugh awoke joyously and sang as he dressed. - -“You seem very gay,” said Margot, “considering you came home so very -late last night.” - -“Yes, it was a gala night at Café de Paris. Masked dancers and all that -sort of thing. Very jolly. But I’m gay for another reason. Look....” - -He spread on the table five notes of a thousand francs each. “There! -Gaze, gloat, marvel--the bank’s money.” - -Her obvious awe was touched with anxiety. - -“And you’ve made all that?” - -“All.” - -“You’re wonderful. You’ll stop now, I hope.” - -“Stop nothing! I’m going on. I’ve got a lucky streak.” - -“You’ll lose it all again.” - -“_Tant pis!_ I’m going to risk it. I’m going to play big. I say, you’d -better come and watch me.” - -“Never! I couldn’t. The emotion! It would be painful.” - -“That’s what I love,--the emotion. The moment, just before the ball -drops, when the heart seems to pause. Whether one wins or loses one has -that precious thrill. Come.” - -“No, thank you.” - -Alone Hugh climbed the familiar hill. On his left towered huge hotels, -on his right the water of the gem-like harbour was like lapis lazuli, -the quays like porcelain. Dainty yachts, all varnish and brasswork, -glassed themselves exquisitely. A carmine car dashed past him. Hugh -caught a glimpse of Paul Vulning at the wheel. The seat raked so that -he seemed to be lying down. Beside him sat the cross-eyed chauffeur. - -Hugh entered the Rooms with no definite plan of playing. His five -thousand francs were folded up into a small packet. It was curious, he -thought as he fingered it, how suddenly he seemed to lose all sense of -its value. It was not money at all, merely a ball of worthless paper. -A magnificent recklessness came over him. Going to the first table, -he took from his pocket the greasy wad of notes and threw it on red. -There it was gone, that crumpled soiled packet. He was rid of it. In -another moment that silly little ball would drop into a black slot, and -he would turn away with a careless smile.... No, it had dropped into -a red. How funny! He saw everybody turn to look at him. He stood in a -daze while the croupier unfolded his notes, counted them and paid him -five more. He had been in the Casino just one minute and he had made -five thousand francs. - -He was back in his room half an hour after he had left it. He spread -his ten notes out on the table. Margot looked at him with admiration -and anxiety. He enjoyed the admiration. - -“Come on,” he said; “I won’t play any more to-day. We’ll go to Nice for -lunch and make an afternoon of it.” - -The next day he followed his impulse again, and threw five thousand -francs on black. He lost. Going to another table he played again on -black and won. The situation was unchanged, but his nerves were a -little uncertain. - -The following day he hesitated; but finally, after taking three -imaginary losses, he played for a win, and got it. He had now fifteen -thousand francs. - -On the fourth day his nerve failed him. After watching the play, making -up his mind, then hesitating and drawing back again he came away -without having played. - -On the fifth day he played a well-known _coup_ that comes off three -times out of five. After a long run on black, a break and a return to -black, he played on red and won. Twenty thousand francs. - -That afternoon like a miser he spread his twenty big notes all over -the table, and a sudden exaggerated sense of their value came to him. -Twenty thousand francs! Why, it meant Capital. In some quiet country -place he could live for three or four years on that; buy himself an -interest in a business, get a good start in life again. The Casino had -served him well. - -Margot looked at him with growing anxiety. “You’ll stop now, won’t you?” - -“No, I haven’t got enough yet.” - -“_Mon Dieu!_ How much do you want?” - -“Sixty thousand! I want to buy a good car for about twenty thousand. -Then there’s a little cottage with a big garden at Villefranche I can -get for another twenty. Between the car and the garden I think I can -make a pretty tidy living.” - -“And the third twenty?” - -“That’s for you, my child. What the French call a _dot_, the day you -marry.” - -“And if I never marry?” - -“Well, then, you’ll keep house for me in my little cottage covered with -roses. You’ll still be my little sister.” - -“That’s nicer. Now you can stop at forty thousand.” - -“No. I’m an obstinate brute. Sixty thousand goes.” - -The girl sighed. “By the way we have a new neighbour, such a fine -looking old man, a Professor Durand.” - -“The dickens! I know him quite well. He’s a little touched. Thinks he -has an invincible system that’s going to bust up the Casino.” - -“Yes, the concierge told me. He has books and books of figures and -diagrams. He works over them night and day.” - -“Seems to me the concierge takes too much interest in his _locataires_. -I don’t like that man. I wish you would talk to him as little as -possible.” - -“Very well. I don’t like him myself, he ... he tried to make love to -me.” - -“The dog! I’ll smash him.” - -“No, please don’t make a fuss. I stopped him pretty quick. It doesn’t -do to make enemies of those people.” - -The following day Hugh met Professor Durand on the stairway. The old -man was bronzed and hale-looking. - -“Ha! my young friend!” he said. “Yes, I’ve been in the mountains, the -pines, preparing for the battle. I want all the strength that is left -in me to accomplish my mission.” - -“Poor old chap!” thought Hugh, “he doesn’t know what’s in front of him. -Pathetic! Maybe another Casino tragedy.” - - -3. - -As he was sitting in the Café de Paris that evening listening to the -music, Hugh idly watched the entrance to the Casino with its four great -lanterns. In the softened lustre its pale yellow stone took on a mellow -radiance almost onyxlike. Seen through the palms with the stars for a -background it was like a gleaming palace of delight, poised over the -mystery of the sea. - -Into the pool of light from the doorway swished glossy limousines from -which descended elegantly dressed people. One, a very tall man, mounted -the steps and paused for a moment. He had a spade-shaped beard, a -swarthy face, and a hooked nose. - -“First time I’ve seen that chap,” thought Hugh. “Looks like a grandee -of old Castile, but is probably an Armenian money-changer.” - -Just at that moment Mr. Tope came bustling up. “I say,” said Hugh, -“who’s that hidalgo-looking johnny on the steps?” - -Mr. Tope screwed a monocle into his right eye. “Don’t know exactly. -Some say he’s a South American, ex-president of some small republic -who got away with the state treasure. Wouldn’t be surprised. He has a -vulturish look. The scum of the world find their way here, and as long -as they have money they are welcome. By the way, I hear great things -of you, winning maximums and so on. Congratulations, young man! Any -one who can get ahead of that institution over there has my profound -admiration. You know, my boy, they’re making a million a week; and they -say there’s a suicide a day. I believe that’s an exaggeration, though. -If they put it at six a week they might be nearer the truth. I suppose -you’ve heard of the latest one?...” - -“No.” - -“That big man with the skull cap; they used to call him ‘Cheero.’” - -“Really!” - -“Prussic acid in the Café of the Casino. They always said he was the -luckiest player in the Rooms, the man who never lost. As it turned -out he did nothing but lose; he lost a million and hid it behind that -placid smile. That smile was a mask that hid his agony....” - -“Pretty rough! One never knows. Oh, I say, I haven’t seen anything of -the Calderbrooks lately.” - -“No, they’re lying low at present. They went through their letter of -credit and then borrowed from the bank. The old man wanted to go home, -but the two women persuaded him to stay another month. They put a -mortgage on their house, and are having two thousand pounds sent out.” - -“And what about Mrs. Emslie’s daughter?” - -“Oh, June. The Fitzoswalds have taken her in. Poor girl! She was very -ill after the tragedy. We wanted to send her to England, but it seems -she has no relatives there. They come from Australia. The mother -gambled away all the girl’s fortune and the poor thing is alone in the -world, helpless and destitute.” - -“Is she better now?” - -“Yes. The mother led her an awful life. June is helping Mrs. Fitzoswald -to look after the kiddies. You know Mrs. Fitz? Spunky little Irishwoman -with bronze gold hair and a turned up nose! Fitz is that red-headed, -one-legged man; always plays the same game, builds up louis round the -number thirty-two. He says it is his wife’s age, but she denies it. -She says she wishes Fitz would hurry up and be ruined, for then they -could go home to Ireland and live in peace. Well, they’re awfully fine -people, and so good to June. I say, young man, there’s a chance for -you. A sweet, pretty, refined girl, friendless and without a _sou_. Why -don’t you sail in, marry her and be happy ever after?” - -“But I’ve never had the faintest idea of marrying.” - -“Ah well, poor June must become a nurse or a governess, or fall into -the clutches of some professional seducer such as Vulning. I’ve heard -he’s after her. I hope the Major gets ruined pretty soon, and then the -Fitzoswalds can take June away from this infected hell.” - - -4. - -The very next day Hugh encountered June Emslie. She was playing with -the Fitzoswald children in the circular sand pit near the dove-cage. -She started and grew pale; then advanced to meet him with outstretched -hand. Neither of them referred to the previous meeting. He found her -timid, painfully embarrassed, but shyly worshipping as she looked at -him. Come to think of it, he had made rather an effective entry on the -scene that night, quite in the hero of romance fashion. If she was at -all sentimental she must have idealized him. Being a prosaic young man -he was rather annoyed at the thought and his manner became brusque, -careless even. Her recent sorrow had not driven the fresh colour from -her cheeks. If Margot was the type of the lily this girl was like -a rose. Her features were sensitive and delicate, her hair a dark -chestnut, her eyes deep blue. She was tall, and slender, and apparently -not more than seventeen. After a few commonplace remarks, he said: - -“If I can do anything for you, anything at all, please let me know. -Think of me as a friend, and call on me if ever you should need me.” - -She understood what he meant and a deep flush overspread her face. - -“Yes, I will. Thank you so much. By the way,--I don’t know your name.” - -He told her. “Shall I write it down?” he asked. - -“Oh no. I assure you I can remember it.” - -They said good-bye and he left her with an impression of her virginal -sweetness and budding charm. - -But she did not remain long in his thoughts. That afternoon he had an -engagement with Mrs. Belmire. Of late she had gone out of her way to -be nice to him, and he had begun to admire her enthusiastically. He -was proud to be seen with her, and was blind to her deficiencies. She -had for him the attraction of the ripe, experienced woman for the raw, -callow youth. When she asked him to take her to Cap Martin, her request -made him simmer with joyous excitement. - -He called for her in a voiture with two horses and they drove along -the shore road. She was simpler and sweeter than he had ever known -her; but, he thought, abstracted and depressed. They sat on the rocks -awhile, then had tea in the hotel. On the way home her pensiveness -increased so noticeably that at last he taxed her with it. - -“I say, what’s the matter? You seem so sad to-day.” - -She turned with a forced smile. “Am I? Perhaps I am. You see I’m -worried. But then what have my troubles got to do with you?” - -“Oh, please tell me. Look on me as a friend.” - -“Dear boy, so I do. Well, I’m in difficulties--financial difficulties. -I’ve got money coming out from England; but I’ve had such rotten luck -at baccarat lately, and a lot of little bills have been coming in, and -... well, this is all I have to meet them.” - -From her vanity bag she took a tiny jewelled purse, and showed him in -its satin interior a few torn franc bills and some _sous_. - -“Grotesque, isn’t it? I wouldn’t care, only there’s my week’s bill at -the pension. I’ll pull through somehow....” - -Hugh thrilled with sympathy; he blushed, stammered and blurted out: “I -say, I’ve been rather lucky at the tables lately. Won’t you let me help -you ... a little loan....” - -“Oh, no, I couldn’t think of it.” - -“It will be a privilege. Make me happy, please, by accepting.” - -“Well, if you put it that way. I know you’ve been lucky, dear boy. -You’re just too nice. Perhaps a _mille_ would tide me over.” - -Hugh feverishly searched his pocket-book. Alas! he had prudently left -his big bills with Margot. All he had were some twenty ten franc notes. - -“Look here, it’s too bad,” he said, “I’ve left all my money at home. -But, to-night, if you can meet me at the Café de Paris at nine, I’ll -have it.” - -“I can count on that?” - -“Yes.” - -“You darling! I say ... there’s no one on the road. Quick. If you like, -you may kiss me.” - - -5. - -He arrived at the Café de Paris about half past eight, keyed up and -exalted. The afternoon seemed to have added an inch to his stature. -The most charming woman in Monte!... And he had kissed her.... Having -a little time to spare he went into the Rooms. The impulse he knew so -well was luring him on. - -“If I give her a _mille_,” he thought, “why not make the Casino pay for -it?” - -At the first table he threw a maximum on red and won. Rather sourly -they paid him six thousand francs. - -“Five thousand for me,” he said, “and a thousand for Mrs. B.” - -He found her exquisitely dressed and impatiently awaiting him. His luck -had added to his excitement. He was feeling capable of any folly. He -folded up a _mille_ note very neatly and slipped it into her bag. Then -somewhat to his chagrin she excused herself. - -“I’m awfully sorry. I have an engagement at the club. Probably see you -to-morrow.” - -She left him feeling rather chilled and sober. - -“Well,” he consoled himself, “perhaps it is just as well. In any case I -now have twenty-five thousand francs.” - -He did not play for the next few days. His success rather dismayed him; -his nerve was gone. Then on two successive days a chance appeared which -was too favourable to be resisted; it was what he called a sure-shot. -As a matter of fact, it really came off in five cases out of six, but -only by watching and waiting could one get on to it. A long run on one -of the simple chances had to be followed by a certain combination of -both chances. In each case when he played it he won; his capital had -now increased to thirty-five thousand francs. - -He began to feel what he had never felt in his life before,--secure. -To a rich man that sum was nothing; to him, everything. But he was -becoming increasingly nervous. He must not lose this money. He must be -more prudent than ever. If he lost it, it would discourage him utterly; -he would never have the heart to begin over again. Yet he must make the -sixty thousand on which he had set his heart. Only twenty-five thousand -more. Four wins of maximums would practically do it. Well, he must -pluck up his courage and try again. He must nerve himself for the final -struggle. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - -THE BIG FIGHT - - -During his long spells of waiting, he became more and more intimately -acquainted with the world of the Casino,--from the prowling seeker of -the sure-shot to the holiday plunger, from the philosophic veteran with -pencil and note-book to the _nouveau riche_ spraying the table with -louis. He came to know the eternal types, the avid-eyed old women, the -blowsy, brazen matron, the cocotte throwing money away with cynical -contempt, the young girl from the convent risking her first five franc -piece. - -Then the unending Casino comedies. For instance, the Honeymoon Couple -comedy. The first day she hangs on his arm while he plays. The second -day _he_ hangs on her arm while _she_ plays. The third day they -separate a little and try tiny flutters of their own. The fourth day -they get seats at the same table and advise each other as to their -play. The fifth day they get seats at separate tables, and each plays -as if the other did not exist. The sixth day she is begging him for -money, and he is refusing. The seventh day they moon round without -playing, he moody, she sulky, very near to a quarrel. Then on the -eighth day they disappear, perhaps never to be the same again. - -Then there is the woman who talks to the croupier, fawning on him and -asking him how she ought to play. Sometimes the knight of the rateau -hazards a guess. If it comes off, _tant mieux_. Perhaps, it means a -tip; if it doesn’t, _tant pis_. No man is infallible. - -These types repeat themselves endlessly; but among them from time to -time appear strange original characters piquing the curiosity of the -public. The Casino is like a stage where they enter, play their parts, -and make their exit. Old and young, good and bad, rich and poor,--they -come and go; they lose or win; they sidle across the glossy floor under -the great white dome; they smirk and posture, wrangle and vapour. Beefy -Englishman and desiccated Yank, flatulent Frenchman and oily Italian, -morose Spaniard and bovine Swede; Jap, Chinaman, Rasta and Levantine -Jew--they mix amid the throng that surges around the whirring wheels, -and their strange tongues mingle in one confused babble. - -So fantastic did it appear to Hugh that at times he rubbed his eyes -and wondered if it could be real. How he wished he were a writer. If -only he could see into their hearts, know their histories, pick their -brains, what books he could write, a library of books, a document of -humankind that would outweigh the works of Balzac and Zola combined. - -He became better acquainted with daily frequenters of the Casino and -watched them with unceasing amusement. There was one, a Greek, a -grossly fat man with three chins and a promontory of greasy waistcoat. -On his pudgy hand he wore rubies as large as walnuts; and as he walked -from table to table, laying _mille_ placques on the dozens he never -ceased to perspire. The tall woman in grey also attracted him. She was -always gloved, always veiled. She played with persistency her game on -number one, losing or winning with apparent indifference. Who was she? -She went from table to table with the strangeness and mystery of a -specter. - -His attention was drawn irresistibly to the very tall man with the -spade-shaped beard, who, he had learned, was a Brazilian diplomat. His -name was Doctor Bergius and he was said to be of mixed Spanish and -German parentage. From the moment he had entered the Rooms, the doctor -had become a dominating personality. He was as straight as a shoot of -bamboo, with a high carriage and an eye of piercing command. His long -nose resembled the beak of a vulture of the Andes; his brow retreated -from his piercing black eyes and his skin was as coppery as that of -an Indian. He always dressed with immaculate care. He never played, -but looking gravely on, with his hands behind his back, appeared only -remotely interested in the game. - -Then there was another man who attracted Hugh, partly because he was -so graceful and handsome, partly because he had once broken the bank. -He was an Italian called Castelli, of medium height and well-shaped -figure. He had the olive skin, dark velvety eyes, and the perfect -features often found in men who prey on women. He always had women with -him. He played a dashing game, superbly indifferent to loss or gain. - -Hugh was conscious of an atmosphere of unceasing suspicion. Every day -hundreds of false louis were foisted on the bank, and no one knew how -it was done. It was impossible to check them. Most of the players were -too lazy to cash in before leaving the Casino and the chips continued -to circulate in town as freely as money. The Casino inspectors were up -on their toes, every one was being watched. - -One day there came to him the mood for which he was waiting, the -conquering mood. His nerves were of steel, and he felt that he could -win a fortune or lose all without turning a hair. He had in his pockets -seven packets of five thousand francs each. He sat down at the suicide -table and began to play. - -It was strange how confident he was. Something was fighting on his -side. He could not be beaten. Then to his dismay, he lost the first -_coup_, but won the three following. Again he lost a _coup_, but gained -another two. And so it went on. The scales dipped, now for, now against -him. On the whole, however, fortune favoured him, and he steadily drew -ahead. - -At last the great battle was on. He felt inspired. Silently he sat, -watchful, emotionless as a wax figure. His eyes became opaque; and a -crease of concentration came between his brows. - -“A big game,” the rumour spread. “Come and see.” - -The circle of watchers deepened and their interest increased. But to -Hugh they were only a dull blur of meaningless faces. No, not all, for -he saw one that thrilled him for a moment. It was that of Mrs. Belmire. -Then her too he forgot in the stress of the struggle. - -And it was in reality a struggle. The bank had abandoned its attitude -of disdain, and was directly fighting him. No longer was he a petty -“piker” but a foeman worth while. He felt that the eight silent men in -black who ran the table were concentrating their wills against his. -Psychology was coming into play. He willed that that capricious little -ball should go one way; these eight willed it to take another. He would -beat them; he would make the ball go where he wanted it to go. - -He waited until it was spun; and then, acting from sheer impulse, threw -a packet of notes on one of the simple chances. Sometimes he even -threw on two chances. The battle swayed. He advanced, he retreated, but -only to advance again. - -As the spirit of the fight glowed in him, his play increased in -boldness. If he fell he would fall gloriously. For once he had the -centre of the stage. He would be worthy of the part, of the audience. -He began to play on all three simple chances. He won ... and won again. -Fortune favoured the brave. Hurrah for the big game! Again a triple -shot. Ha! he had lost one of the three that time.... Well, the next -time. The grey croupier who was paying did not look at all pleased. No -wonder! Handing out _mille_ notes continually from the little grilled -box. And the _chef de parti_ was scowling at the little chap who -twirled the ball. Hugh won another _coup_, another fifteen thousand. - -“_Messieurs, le boule passe._” - -The cowards! They were changing the croupier who threw the ball. That -one was too unlucky. What a stack of notes he had. Must be nearly a -hundred thousand. Ah, the devil! this new man was beating him. He had -lost ... lost ... lost. His stack was diminishing. His luck had turned. -He heard people asking: “Why doesn’t he stop?” No, he would win back -again ... win back. He was dazed. He scarcely knew what he was doing. -He was reaching out to play another time when a hand gripped his arm. - -“You darned young fool, quit now. Quit while you’re still to the good.” - -It was Mr. Gimp. The American dragged him away from the table, followed -by the admiring gaze of a hundred eyes. Then in a corner they counted -the gains. With his own capital he had fifty-five thousand francs. - -He sat on a leather seat in a stupor. He wanted to smoke a cigarette, -to go home, but did not have energy enough. Then, when he was finally -starting the stranger’s door swung open and Professor Durand made his -first entrance into the Rooms. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - -THE PROFESSOR BEGINS - - -1. - -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.” - - -2. - -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?” - -“About five francs a day.” - -“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.” - - -3. - -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.” - - -4. - -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. - - - - -CHAPTER TEN - -THE COMPACT - - -1. - -As the following day was Sunday the professor did not play. Instead he -went to early mass accompanied by Margot, to whom he had taken a fancy, -and in the afternoon the two went for a walk together in the direction -of Menton. They asked Hugh to accompany them but he refused. - -To tell the truth he had other fish to fry. Since his success, he had -blossomed out in many ways. Some time before he had been to a good -tailor and had several suits made. He had developed a fondness for the -American Bar of the Café de Paris, and had become increasingly intimate -with Mrs. Belmire. - -At first he had merely admired her immensely; he was flattered by her -interest in him and had found a kind of heady pleasure, like champagne, -in her society. In the end he had become really fascinated. Then one -day something happened that acted on him like a spur. He was walking -along the road to Beaulieu when a big carmine car swung round a bend. -He recognized Vulning at the wheel. He thought the lady with him seemed -familiar, but it was not until she looked back laughingly and waved her -hand that he saw it was Mrs. Belmire. - -If it had been any other man he would not have minded. He knew she -went about with Fetterstein and one or two others. But Vulning!... -He disliked Vulning. He realized with a shock that he was jealously -infatuated with the lady. - -On this particular Sunday afternoon he had arranged to motor with her -to Brodighera. He was happy in the thought that he would have her all -to himself for four radiant hours. - -They had not been long on the road when she said sweetly: - -“You poor boy! I believe we nearly ran you down the other day. You -looked ever so startled. Paul always drives so recklessly. He gives me -all kinds of thrills.” - -“Why do you go out with him then?” Hugh snapped. - -She looked at him curiously. There was a gleam of amused satisfaction -in her eye. - -“Why shouldn’t I? I love thrills. Besides he’s an old friend. Good -gracious! I don’t believe you like him.” - -“Why should I?” - -“Oh, he’s not a bad sort. A bit blasé and all that sort of thing. But -... well, you don’t know him.” - -“We have met.” - -“Have you really? I asked him after we had passed if he knew you, and -he said he didn’t. He meets so many I suppose he forgot. He’s much -sought after.” - -Hugh grew more savage. Again he snapped. “I don’t believe he’s the man -a woman should be seen with often if she values her reputation.” - -“_Her reputation!_” - -Hugh thought she was going to be angry. She stared at him a moment, -then suddenly said: “Oh you funny boy! You nice boy! I like you so much -for that. But ... I do believe you’re jealous of Paul Vulning.” - -“Why should I be?” - -“Because he’s so like you. You’ve got the same regular features, the -same fair hair. You’re both tall and rather slight. But you needn’t -resent all that. Paul is a rather soiled man of the world; you are a -nice clean boy who might be fresh from Oxford.” - -She looked at him thoughtfully. - -“I’d like to keep you as you are, but it might be better for yourself -if you were a little more sophisticated. I have half a mind to take you -in hand, to educate you in the ways of the world. May I?” - -“I don’t know what you mean.” - -“No, I didn’t think you would. You are a little--may I say it?--naïve -sometimes.... I say, don’t you admire my new blouse? I just got it this -morning. The embroidery’s so pretty, I think.” - -Something in the design struck Hugh as familiar. Yes, it was the work -he had seen Margot sitting up so late to finish. - -“You look so serious. Don’t you like it?” - -“Yes, it’s lovely.” - -“I think so too. By the way, why don’t you begin to gamble again? -You play so well and you are so lucky. You must join the Club. You -might make lots of money. Talking about horrid money reminds me ... -mine hasn’t arrived and I’m rather low again. You may lend me another -_mille_ if you like.” - -On the way back they overtook an old man and a girl. It was Margot -and the professor. Margot’s arms were full of flowers. Hugh waved to -them, and the professor waved back. Margot only stared. Hugh felt -uncomfortable. He was sorry he had encountered them. - -When he reached home the room was bright with blossoms. Margot was very -quiet. She did not refer to their meeting and neither did he. But for -some reason for which he could not account, he did not care to meet -her eyes. - - -2. - -On his way to the Casino, the next day, he missed the usual crowd at -the edge of the “Cheese,” and hunting up Mr. Tope inquired after Mrs. -Fitzoswald. - -“Haven’t you heard? The Casino capitulated. They had the Major released -and paid the fares of the whole family to England. They all went off -this morning.” - -“And June Emslie?” - -“I believe she got a job as a nurse girl or something with a family in -Menton.” - -“Poor girl!” - -“I say, let me tell you once more, there’s the very wife for a lad like -you. Why don’t you marry her? Just as sweet as a rose, and badly up -against it.” - -Hugh laughed and was glad of the diversion caused by the entrance of -the Calderbrooks. - -“Hullo! They’ve come back. I’ve missed them for some time,” he -exclaimed. - -“They were lying low. No money! Now they’ve got out some more and are -starting in again. I’m told they’ve sold or mortgaged their property in -England and taken an apartment here. In a few years’ time they will be -just like all the other derelicts, haunting the Casino with no money -to play, seedy, down at heel, sodden. You know the sort. Look around; -you’ll see enough of ’em.” - -Mrs. Calderbrook with a resolute look, was stalking in front; the girl -Alicia, tall and slender, followed; the father with his wistful blue -eye and drooping grey moustache trailed after them. - -Hugh had heard that Alicia had been engaged to a young ex-aviator who -had bought a ranch in Alberta. She had expected to have joined him as -soon as possible, but Monte Carlo had thrown its spell over her. The -thought of a lonely ranch on the prairie became unbearable and she -broke off the engagement. She would probably never have another chance -to marry. - -To Hugh’s surprise he did not find MacTaggart in his usual place under -the Three Graces, but instead, in his seat was Mr. Gimp. - -“Yep,” said Mr. Gimp, sourly, “I’m old Mac’s deputy. Hate like hell to -do this but he’s sick. He was getting out of bed, wanted to crawl down -anyway, hated to lose his records. I made him go back and told him I’d -take his place. It’s all damned rot, you know. I might as well put down -any old numbers and give them to him. It would be the same in the end. -Howsoever, I’m conscientious.” - -“Is he very sick?” - -“Nerves mostly. The success of your old friend, the professor, gave -him a nasty jar. Kind o’ destroyed his confidence in his own system. -Say, you want to tell the old boy to be careful. He was in this morning -early, played five shots, and got the bulls-eye twice. Carried off over -a hundred thousand francs.” - -“Why should he be careful?” - -“Because the Casino folks ain’t goin’ to stand that sort o’ thing -indefinitely. They’re gettin’ scared; and believe me, when they get -scared they’ll get desperate. It stands to reason, they ain’t goin’ to -let themselves be ruined if they can help it. The old fellow seems to -have some way of spotting a winner, or getting so close to it he breaks -even. It’s plain now it ain’t all accident. Well, if he can make fifty -thousand a day he can just as well make two hundred thousand ... and -then let him look out.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Why, if he went on, they’d just have to close their doors. Not only -the Casino would be ruined but the Principality. D’ye think they’re -goin’ to stand for that?” - -“They could expel him.” - -“What good would that do? He could put some one else on. No, the only -way would be to suppress both him and his system; and believe me, they -won’t stick at half measures to do it. I don’t say as they’ll stoop to -crime; but there’s men in their pay as ain’t so scrupulous. There’s the -existence of the whole community at stake. Accidents can happen. What’s -a man’s life compared with the ruin of twenty thousand people? Believe -me, the professor’s playin’ a dangerous game.” - -Hugh left Mr. Gimp sitting on one of the side benches still sourly -taking down the hated numbers. He mooned round the rooms, thinking more -of Mrs. Belmire than of the play. She had called him _naïve_; that had -hurt his vanity. Was he naïve? - -Mrs. Belmire had urged him to go on gambling, but he had baulked. Of -course, she thought he had plenty of money, and that his winnings at -roulette meant little to him. On the contrary they meant so much to -him that he was determined to hold on to them at all costs. Of his -fifty-five thousand five had already melted away. He had loaned her -two and had spent another two on clothes. Perhaps it was the lesson -that poverty had taught him in his youth, perhaps it was due to his -Scottish ancestry, but he had a curious streak of prudence in him. He -had deposited fifty thousand francs in the bank and was determined not -to touch it. - -Since his last spectacular performance at the tables, a reaction had -set in. He found himself almost in the same state of indifference -that he had been before he had begun to play. His sudden passion for -gambling seemed to have spent itself, and he wondered how he could ever -have been so obsessed. - -Fifty thousand francs! Yes, he had been miraculously lucky. It seemed -like providence. He would buy a car and a cottage, and spend his spare -time in painting. As for Mrs. Belmire, he would tell her just how -matters stood. But not just yet. Perhaps he would allow her to educate -him a little first. No more roulette though; not even for tobacco -money. No opportunities, however good, would tempt him. Confound Mrs. -Belmire! She had said that she was dining that evening with Paul -Vulning. She had made a point of telling him about it, he believed. - - -3. - -He spent three days painting at Cap Ferrat. He started early each -morning and returned late, drunk with fresh air and sunshine. Then on -the fourth day he rested and found his way in due course to the Casino. -Mr. Gimp was still replacing MacTaggart. - -“I expect Mac will be on deck again to-morrow,” Mr. Gimp said in -response to his inquiry. “He can’t afford to lie off much longer. You -know he’s working on a mere two or three hundred francs of capital. He -lives on fifteen francs a day. If he don’t make ’em, he goes hungry. I -know for a fact, lots of nights, he makes a supper of dry bread. That’s -what’s killing him,--the worry of making his day. If he could afford -to play with higher stakes, say louis instead of five franc pieces, it -would be different. He’s got all kinds of faith in his system; sure -there’s a fortune in it.” - -“I had no idea he was so short.” - -“Oh, there’s lots like that,--a good front and behind it starvation.... -Just look at that Dago Castelli,--there’s a dashing, sporty player if -you like.” - -The handsome Italian was playing a brilliant _paroli_ game. He played -between three tables, putting a louis on each of the simple chances. -If they were swept away he replaced them; if they won he left them on -with the louis of gain. He continued to leave on stake and gains for -six wins, then he took them up. This did not occur very often; but when -it did it netted him thirty-two louis. The game was an unusual one, -lively, easy to play, and interesting. Castelli always played this same -game, and frequently with great success. That day, however, runs of six -were rare and his louis were being swept away like leaves before the -wind. - -Hugh persisted in his decision not to play. He saw chance after chance -to win, but let them go by. He was finished. He turned from the game -and watched the players. The woman in grey came and went, always -throwing a louis on number one. He saw her play several times at three -different tables but without success. After looking on awhile, she went -slowly away. The latest rumour he had heard concerning her was that she -was a celebrated actress who had recently been acquitted of a case of -_crime passionel_. - -As he was wondering who she really was, a curious conversation -attracted his attention. A big, ruddy Englishman was talking to a small -shabby individual with a blotched face and gold-rimmed spectacles. The -little man was saying: - -“In six weeks from to-day you will pay me fifteen thousand francs. -To-day I give you thirteen thousand, five hundred. That is understood, -is it not?” - -“Yes, that is understood.” - -“But what about exchange? If the franc goes down in value, you will -have gained. In that case you will pay me the difference. Is that -understood?” - -“Yes, that is understood.” - -The little man took from his note-book a prepared slip of paper and the -Englishman signed it with a fountain pen. The little man counted out -thirteen thousand five hundred francs in notes and his companion took -them, and threw a thousand on the first table. He lost, and without -trying to regain them went off to the private rooms. - -Hugh decided to go home. As he was crossing the “Hall of Light,” he -saw Castelli sauntering in front of him. What a handsome chap that -Italian was. What a favourite he must be with women. He was speaking -to one now.... No, he had turned and was in conversation with the -chief inspector of the Rooms. After a moment they disappeared together -through one of the glass doors that works with a hidden catch. - -On all sides Hugh heard wonderful accounts of the professor. For -three days the old man had won seventy thousand francs a day. Half -the profits of the Casino were going into his pocket. It was said the -administration was becoming desperate. - - -4. - -Mr. Jarvis Tope had a source of secret information. His landlord was -a retired croupier and the two were excellent friends. In this way he -came to know many matters not revealed to the public, and he was very -discreet about disseminating his information. - -“By the way,” he said to Hugh, “you’ve heard that a gang are passing -counterfeit louis in Casino money?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, they’ve got one of them at least. In his room in Nice they found -a suit-case full of it. You’ve probably seen the chap.” - -“Who.” - -“His name is Castelli....” - -“No!” - -“Yes. They got him two days ago, but they have been watching him for -weeks. Some very sharp person on the Casino detective staff noticed -that he seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of louis. That put them -on the track. They’ve expelled him from the Principality. Well, that’s -one worry off their shoulders. Their other one is your old friend, the -professor. There they’ve got a tough nut to crack, I fear.” - -“Do you think they’ll crack it?” - -“Think! I know. A word in your ear. You tell the old chap to get out. -Get him away in a car, far and fast. They’ve simply got to get that -system, to get _him_. You understand. If they wish to save themselves -from ruin, neither he nor his system must continue to exist. They’re -only waiting now to make sure he’s got them. They can’t buy him off. -They can’t let him escape. I say, I wouldn’t be in that old man’s shoes -for all the money he’s made. Sounds melodramatic, I know. You think I -exaggerate. You don’t know this place. Get him away, I say. Lose no -time. Don’t laugh. _I know._” - -Hugh was so disturbed that he knocked that night on the old man’s door. - -“Who’s there?” - -“Your neighbour.” - -There was a turning of locks and the professor appeared. He had been -working out his play for the next day. - -“Come in. Do you know I was just coming to see you. I want to enter -into an arrangement with you.” - -“Yes.” - -“I want protection. Twice I believe my life to have been attempted. -Twice I have nearly been run down by a car. The first time I thought it -was accidental, but I noticed it was the same car....” - -“You must be mistaken.” - -“I hope so. In any case I want you to accompany me to the Casino and -back, and to stay with me when I play. I’ll pay you anything you like. -A thousand francs a day if you agree.” - -“I don’t want pay. I’ll be glad to help you.” - -“Ah, I knew I could count on you. But look here, young man, I warn you -it’s dangerous.” - -“All right. But for your own sake, hadn’t you better try to compromise -with them?” - -“Never. They’ve already approached me. They said they didn’t believe -in my system, but were willing to buy it. They offered me ten million -francs in Casino stock. I told them, if they offered me a hundred -million, I would refuse. They advised me to reconsider my decision. -They were very courteous, said they were acting in the public interest -and so on. Oh, they talked smoothly enough, but I could see the menace -behind.... Look here!” - -The professor went to the safe, twirled the combination, opened the -heavy door and took out a leather bound folio. - -“Here it is, the condensed result of all my labours, the explanation of -my system. It is all in cypher. I want you to learn the six different -cyphers I use.” - -“Why?” - -“Because, if anything should happen to me, I want you to avenge me. -All you have to do is to publish this to the world. Their ruin will be -complete. Hush!” The Professor went quickly to the door and threw it -open. No one was there. - -“I’m getting so nervous. It seems to me I’m watched all the time. -You’ll promise, won’t you? You’ll be my protector, my assistant, my -partner? You hesitate. Are you afraid?” - -“Afraid! no.” - -“All right. Will you?” - -“Yes.” - -“Good. Your hand on it. To-morrow we’ll begin.” - - -END OF BOOK THREE - - - - -BOOK FOUR - -_The Vortex_ - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - -PROSPEROUS DAYS - - -1. - -“By Goad!” said MacTaggart, sipping his second whiskey, “the auld man’s -a wizard. He’s got me fair bamboozilt.” - -It was evening, and he and Hugh were sitting in the Café de Paris. - -“I thocht I knew something o’ roulette, but noo I maun jist go back tae -Strathbungo and play dominoes. And you, young man, wi’ that canny wee -smile on yer gub,--I’m thinkin’ ye ken mair aboot it than ye want tae -tell.” - -Hugh shook his head. - -“No, I can’t grasp it. And yet I’m with the old man every day. The -scientific explanation of it’s beyond me. A mathematical mystery. -Your system and all the others are based on the laws of average, the -equilibrium. It’s a calculation of chances, of probabilities. So far -so good! The law of average does exist. It’s all rot to say that the -_coup_ that’s gone has no influence on the one that is to come. It -has. It’s true that the slots are all the same size and so each has an -equal claim to the ball, but it is because of this equal chance that -they will each receive it an equal number of times. I’ve seen a number -come up three times in succession, yet I wouldn’t hesitate to bet -thirty-five to one, in thousands, that it won’t come up a fourth time. -Mechanically, maybe it has an equal chance with the others, but by the -law of average, no.” - -“That’s elementary,” said MacTaggart. - -“Yes, but it’s as deep as the most of us get. We’re all in the -kindergarten class. We grope vaguely. We fumble with probabilities. As -far as we go we are right; but we don’t go far enough. We reach a point -where our system breaks down. The law of average is too big for us to -compress into a formula. In its larger workings it eludes us; we cannot -regulate it. Our observations of it are too limited.” - -“I’ve got a record of over two hundred thousand consecutive _coups_,” -said MacTaggart. - -“The professor has a record of over two million. The amount of work he -has done is colossal. He has studied the numbers in their relation to -one another; he has classified, co-ordinated, condensed. His system is -one of correspondence and elimination. He has used the resources of -mathematics to put it on a working basis. He has gone above and behind -all the rest of us. His comprehension is larger; he has grasped the -wider workings of the law of average. He has narrowed down and focussed -the probability, and reduced the phenomena by the magnitude of his -calculations to a minimum. The day of the year and the hour of the day -has a bearing on the application of his system. That red note-book of -his is full of algebraic formula. By looking at the last dozen numbers -that have come up and referring to his formulæ, he has a hint how to -play. But even then he is never quite sure. Sometimes he is only within -eight numbers, sometimes within four. But that’s good enough. He has -been lucky in hitting the precise number one time out of three; but -scientifically speaking he considers he ought to strike it only one -time out of five.” - -“I’ve seen him strike it every day for the last month. He must hae -averaged over sixty thoosand francs a day, I’m thinkin’. I expect the -members o’ the board are losin’ lots o’ sleep them days. It’s no’ a -question of him winnin’, but how much is he goin’ tae win. They’ve got -old Bob Bender watchin’ him every time he plays. If it wisna that you -were everlastingly doin’ the watch dog some one would get a graup o’ -that wee book he’s forever keekin intae. Though I don’t suppose they’d -mak’ much o’ it, wi’ a’ thae queer, crabbed letters an’ figures. I’m -sure they’d be gled tae gi’ him a year’s profits if he’d stop. Aye, or -pay a fortune tae any one that wad stop him. But then he’s got you for -a bodyguard.” - -“Yes, he never goes out without me.” - -“Aye, ye’re a cautious young man. I’m sometimes thinkin’ ye’ve got a -touch o’ the Scot in ye. I hope ye’ve no’ been an’ squandert that money -ye were sae lucky as tae win?” - -“No, the most of it’s in the bank. I won’t touch it for gambling -purposes. In fact, I think I’ve finished.” - -“I’m wishin’ I wis masel’. I’m sick o’ the place, but I must stay until -I mak’ enough to go home no’ lookin’ like a tramp. Ye ken I still -believe in ma system.” - -“I tell you what,” said Hugh, “why don’t you play with a bigger unit? -You play with five franc stakes and you make from four to eight pieces -every day. Why not increase your unit to a hundred francs, and then -you’ll make from four to eight hundred francs a day.” - -“I hav’ nae the capital.” - -“Suppose I lend you a thousand francs.” - -“I micht lose it.” - -“I tell you.... You play with my thousand francs, playing hundred -franc stakes, and I’ll take the risk of you losing. When you win you -can pay me a quarter of your gains.” - -“All right. That’s fair enough. I’ll start to-morrow if ye like.” - -Hugh gave MacTaggart a _mille_ note, and every evening MacTaggart -hunted him up and handed over a hundred and sometimes two hundred -francs. - - -2. - -For weeks the great system of the professor had been successful. -His bank book showed a credit of over two million francs. Every day -accompanied by Hugh, he made his triumphal entry into the Casino -surrounded by an excited and admiring throng. He made no other public -appearance and was a storm centre of curiosity. Hugh acted as the -old man’s manager and saw to it that his mystery was preserved. He -interviewed reporters, and kept off the curious; for the professor -was fast becoming a character of international fame. The great press -agencies chronicled his success; the great dailies paragraphed him; -his portrait graced the picture page of the _Daily Mail_. There were -articles about him in the illustrated weeklies; and even the monthly -journals devoted to science began to consider him seriously. He and -Hugh were snapshotted a dozen times a day. All the well-known roulette -players, Speranza, Dr. Ludus, Max Imum and Silas Doolittle wrote long -letters to the papers diagnosing his famous system. Never had the -Casino had such advertising--yet it was costing them too much. - -The old man never broke the bank. There was nothing sensational about -his play. It was almost monotonous in its certitude; it had the air -even of a commercial transaction in which he had come to collect a -daily debt. It was this cold-blooded, business-like precision that -alarmed them. It was almost cynical; it seemed to say: “Look out. I’m -letting you off easy now, but when I proceed to tighten up the cinch, -God help you.” - -An imaginative reporter had said that Hugh was the professor’s nephew, -and they both agreed to adopt this suggestion. Indeed, as time went on, -Hugh himself began to think of the old man as a real uncle. At times it -seemed almost impossible that they were not related. - -Hugh had taken to smoking excellent cigars. Why not? MacTaggart -was turning in over a thousand a week. He felt some compunction in -accepting this; but MacTaggart was making three times as much for -himself, and was more than satisfied. He could well afford to be -extravagant in other directions as well. There was Mrs. Belmire, for -instance. He took her to dinner a great deal, and out motoring as well. -Apart from that he and Margot still lived in the same simple way. - -One morning as Hugh sat smoking in the professor’s den, he observed the -old man closely. - -“He’s easily good for another ten years,” he thought. “Looks rather -like Karl Marx, burly shoulders, clear, shrewd eyes. A sane man except -for his fanatic obsession to down the Casino.” - -The professor interrupted his reflections by saying: - -“My boy, I’ve come to a great decision.” He paused impressively. “I’m -an old man, and I am afraid that death may come on me unawares, my life -work unfinished. I have decided that you are to carry it on. You shall -begin where I leave off. I am going to instruct you in the system. You -shall take the avenging sword from my failing grasp.” - -Hugh made a gesture of protest. “I say, professor, it’s awfully good of -you. I assure you I’m humbly grateful; but really I’m quite unworthy.” - -“I know of no one so worthy.” - -“Oh, no, the honour’s too great. Besides, I’ve made up my mind never to -play again. A resolution’s a resolution, you know.” - -“I know. You have force of will. But think.... You are not playing -for yourself but for humanity. Yours will be a mission, the ridding -society of a dangerous pest. In destroying the Casino you will be God’s -avenger.” - -“But, professor, I’m just a common ordinary sort of chap. I don’t want -to be anybody’s avenger. As for the Casino, I don’t bear it any ill -will. If I had lost, perhaps I might, but it has treated me well. Of -course, I know it’s a plague spot, a menace to mankind and all that -sort of thing, but that’s none of my business as far as I can see.” - -The professor looked both grieved and shocked. “But don’t you want to -be a benefactor to mankind? Don’t you want to fulfil a great destiny, -to be a reformer, the leader of a new crusade?” - -“No, professor, I admit with shame I don’t want to be any of those -things. All I want is to live a quiet life and make a comfortable -living. There’s a cottage with a garden and a second-hand Panhard -I have my eye on. Between them I can rub along. Then on off days, -I’ll paint. I’ve just begun to get the feeling of the place, and I -think I can do good work. But there! You’re not an artist. You won’t -understand.” - -The professor seemed quite crushed. He sat silent and thoughtful. -Finally he said: - -“No, I’m not an artist. I’m a man of science, and for that reason I -don’t want to see my life work lost to the world. Well then, if you -refuse to be my disciple, will you be my trustee? You refuse to play -for me,--will you see that the system is published after my death? It -is a contribution to science; at the same time by its divination of -the laws of chance, it will destroy the spirit of gambling. Not only -the Casino of Monte Carlo, but gambling institutions all over the -world will fall. The Casino is only an item in my programme. I destroy -chance; I replace it with certitude. My work is not complete, but -others will follow. They will perfect it. Will you then do this much -for me? Will you see my great work in print?” - -“Yes, I’ll do that. I promise. But hang it all, professor, you’ve got -another thirty years to live.” - -“One never knows. There have been no attempts on my life lately, but I -must take no chances. I will begin now and teach you all there is to -know.” - -The professor opened his safe and took from it a thick folio bound in -limp leather. - -“_Voila!_ My treatise. It’s all there, the condensed result of the -labour of thirty years. The red note-book contains the application -of my system to roulette; but in this folio is the result of all my -researches, the scientific explanation of the invention by which I -annihilate chance. Look at it.” - -“But it’s all in cypher.” - -“Yes, all. Not one cypher but many. For the alphabet alone I have three -different sets of characters; for the figures, six. You will have to -learn over a hundred symbols before you can translate this. And these -must not be put on paper; they must be carried in the head. I will -teach them to you but you must promise never to write them. I have -protected myself well. Without the cypher keys that folio is valueless.” - -So Hugh spent the next few days committing to memory the hundred odd -cypher characters of the professor’s great discovery. - - -3. - -When he was not engaged with the professor, he occupied most of his -time dangling after Mrs. Belmire. She had definitely attached him to -her train of admirers and he had fallen in line, not without a certain -ill grace. The life she led was at variance with his tastes; and while -he submitted to her charm, he was constantly on the point of rebellion. -He was like a man who chafes at his chains but cannot break them. He -resented the easy way in which she took his homage for granted. There -were moments when he almost hated her. What rotten luck to fall in love -with a woman so far beyond and above him! If it had only been June -Emslie, or even Margot. But who can help these things? In the end he -decided to let himself drift,--with a certain regard to the direction -of his drifting. - -Perhaps Paul Vulning was to some extent responsible for his subjection. -He detested the man cordially and was jealous of the friendship between -him and Mrs. Belmire. When he saw them together he was possessed by an -irresponsible rage and tortured by all sorts of jealous imaginings. If -it had only been Fetterstein or the old General.... But Vulning! - -She had not borrowed any money from him lately, although she was always -urging him to play again. The last time she had borrowed from him had -set him thinking. He had suffered so much from the want of money that -now he was painfully aware of its value. At all costs he was determined -to hang on to his fifty thousand francs. He would lend her another -thousand but no more. That was the breaking point, he told himself. - -“In any case,” he thought, “I have only to tell her my position and -she’ll chuck me ignominiously. She thinks I’m a rich somebody. When she -learns I’m a poor nobody then.... But I won’t tell her yet awhile. I -enjoy very much being with her, and undoubtedly I am learning a good -deal from her. ‘Sophisticating me,’ she calls it. Well, I suppose that -sort of thing is part of a chap’s education. I will have to regard it -as a return for the money I have lent her, and which, poor thing, I am -sure she will never return. Confound the woman! I don’t know what’s got -into me. I can’t get her out of my head.” - -One day he would vow he was finished with her, the next he would be -crazy to see her again. Even when he was with her, his irritation -sometimes drove him to the point of rebellion. For instance, there was -the evening that they had supper at the High Life. - -It was she who had suggested that they go there, and rather gloomily he -had complied. They had gone first to the Casino and spent some time in -the private room, for Mrs. Belmire disdained the ordinary one. After -watching the play for awhile she had suggested: - -“Why don’t you try your luck? It’s stupid to look on and not risk -anything.” - -“No, thanks, I don’t care to.” - -“Oh, come on. You always win. Even if you lose, what do a few thousands -matter to you when you have won so enormously? Even I saw you.” - -He sighed gloomily. - -“Yes, you saw me win but--you didn’t see me lose.” - -“Of course, poor boy, I know one can’t always win. If you won’t play, -give me some money and I’ll play for you.” - -He took a hundred franc note from his pocket and handed it to her. She -looked at it with a surprised contempt that nettled him. As if it were -dirt she threw it on the first table. Of course it was swept away. - -“There!” she said pettishly, “that’s gone. Well, it’s no use staying -here if we don’t play. It’s tiresome. Let’s go where there’s music and -dancing.” - -They went to the High Life, a place he disliked. It had a rakehell -atmosphere, and suggested debauch. He also resented the obvious fact -that she was quite at home there. - -“Faugh! a den of gilded corruption!” he was thinking, when an -insinuating head-waiter presented a wine card and suggested a certain -expensive brand of champagne. - -“I know it’s the kind madam prefers,” he murmured. - -“Do order a bottle,” said Mrs. Belmire carelessly. - -Hugh ordered, and at her further suggestion he demanded a _homard -American_; the bill came to two hundred francs. He was annoyed. - -“Damned robbers,” he thought. “Well, they won’t get ahead of me on the -champagne. I’ll finish the bottle.” - -As he drank the place became more and more cheerful. He felt very -strong and very playful. He clutched Mrs. Belmire’s arm; once even he -pinched her cheek and called her Marion. She looked at him curiously. -There is no saying to what further indiscretions his exhilaration might -have prompted him, had not there at that moment occurred the episode of -the _Nouveau Riche_ and the Sick Soldier. - - -4. - -The _Nouveau Riche_ was all a _nouveau riche_ should be, big, bloated -and boastful. He had been a cobbler before the war, but had made a -fortune in shoe contracts. The Soldier should never have been there -at all. Some friends, however, had dragged him in; and he sat looking -thin, pale, and wretchedly out of place. - -The _Nouveau Riche_ was playfully emptying a bottle of champagne over -a small palm tree. The manager expostulated. It was doubtful if palms, -however thirsty, would appreciate the virtue of Chateau Margaux, but -the _Nouveau Riche_ waved him aside. - -“Put your damned palm on the bill,” he said, “and bring me a fresh -bottle.” He was proceeding to pour this, too, on the unfortunate plant -when the Sick Soldier sprang up. - -“I’ve had enough,” he cried, and his black eyes flashed in his white -face. He wrenched the bottle from the man’s hand. “You swine, you! -Where I come from there are men who would give their heart’s blood for -a mouthful of that wine you’re wasting like filthy water.” - -The _Nouveau Riche_ got purple in the face; the Soldier was gripping -the loose flesh of his throat and pouring the rest of the champagne -over his head. - -“Here you sit and swill and guzzle,” he went on, “while my comrades out -there in the desert are dying from hunger and thirst. In Syria.... Yes, -I come from Syria where we crawled on our bellies on the sand, crawled -to the water tanks to steal a few precious drops and were shot for it -like mad dogs. We buried a dead horse and dug it up a week later and -ate it. Half of us died in agony, the rest are wrecks--like me. And now -when I see a pig like you squandering and wasting, and think of my -pals out there, suffering, starving, panting with thirst, I tell you it -makes me sick.... Oh, if I only had you out there, you rotten hog....” - -There seemed every prospect of a row, but the Man from Syria suddenly -collapsed and his friends led him away. - -“This is a beastly hole,” said Hugh abruptly. “Let’s get out of it.” - -There was something hard and cynical in Mrs. Belmire’s laugh as she -replied: “Why should we? I think it’s rather amusing.” - -“Amusing!” he retorted savagely. “You seem to think of nothing but -being amused. One would think you lived for amusement.” - -“Why, so I do, I believe. What better is there to live for? What do you -live for?” - -As he could not think of any worthy object that inspired his life he -did not reply, and they sat in silence. Their drive home was silent -also, but at the door of the Pension Pizzicato she held his hand. - -“We haven’t quarrelled, have we?” - -“No, why?” - -“You’re so queer. Not a bit nice. I say, won’t you come up to my room -and smoke a cigarette? It’s so late we can slip upstairs without -meeting any one.” - -An instinct of danger warned him. At the moment, too, she really -repelled him. - -“No, I’m tired. I want to go home.” - -But she still held his hand with a soft pressure. - -“Can’t I coax you? Please come. There’s something very important I want -to talk to you about.” - -“What is it? Can’t you tell me here?” - -“Yes, but ... I was thinking about that man who spilled the champagne. -Of course, he was an awful brute, but what heaps of money he must have. -What a nuisance money is! It’s so sordid and yet one’s just got to have -it.” - -He knew what was coming. - -“I say, you’re the best pal I’ve got here. I don’t know what I’d do -without you. I’m in awful difficulties. Debts all round. Horrid people -keep pressing me to pay their wretched bills. Oh, I’m only a lonely, -unprotected woman....” - -Here Mrs. Belmire began to cry. - -“Can’t you lend me ten thousand francs, dear boy?” - -“No.” - -He was surprised at the explosive vehemence of his tone. The lady was -even more surprised. Her tears ceased suddenly. With a kind of pained -dignity she drew herself up. - -“Good-night,” she said icily and then turning sharply, left him alone -with the sea and the stars. - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -A BURGLAR AND A ROW - - -1. - -When he got home he found Margot was still up. She was sewing under the -lamp-glow, her coiled mass of hair a bright gold as she bent over her -work, her face pale but full of patient sweetness. As Hugh stood there -in his evening dress, flushed and reeking of wine, the eyes she raised -to him were tired and sad. - -Since the time she had met him with Mrs. Belmire there had been -a change in her manner towards him. No longer did she make timid -overtures of friendship, no longer tell him of the day’s doings. She -had ceased to laugh and sing, and had become very quiet and reserved. -She toiled continually with her needle. - -It always irritated him to see her working so hard; and to-night, being -in a bad humour, he said crossly: “Not in bed yet! You’ll hurt your -eyes, you know.” - -“I’m sorry. I’m just going. I stayed up because I wanted to see you -about something.” - -“Yes, what?” - -“I’ve managed to make two hundred francs by my sewing. I don’t want to -be a burden on you any longer. I’m going back to Paris to work in an -_atelier_. I’m going to-morrow morning.” - -He was quite taken aback. He stared for a moment; then a steady, -serious look came into his eyes. Going forward he took her hand firmly. - -“Do you really mean that?” - -“Yes. I’ve been planning it for some time.” - -“And you haven’t said anything.” - -“I scarcely ever see you now. You’re so busy during the day and get -home so late at night.” - -He hesitated, staring thoughtfully at the lamp flame. His emotions were -conflicting. Here was a chance to free himself from all responsibility -regarding her. Sooner or later the separation would have to come, why -not now while she was reconciled to it? Quickly he made up his mind. - -“Look here, Margot, don’t go ... not just yet. Stay at least a little -while longer. I’ve got so used to you. I’ll miss you awfully. Please -stay, won’t you?” - -“But what’s the good of staying?” - -“I don’t know. I just feel I can’t let you go. I know I’m asking a -selfish thing, but please don’t leave me just yet.” - -“Very well.” - -“You’ll stay? Thank you. You’re a good little pal. The best of the lot. -Good-night....” - -The following day his mood changed. His mind was full of Mrs. Belmire -again. After all, he thought, he had been rather rough. He would lend -her the money; he would seek her out that very afternoon. - -Then an event occurred that changed the whole current of his thoughts. - - -2. - -For two days Monte Carlo had been at the mercy of the Mistral. Many -strange ships were sheltering in the narrow harbour that with its -concrete arms fended back the savage seas; the palms in the gardens -lashed furiously and the air was full of flying splinters. - -All that morning the sky had been gloomy and towards noon the clouds -over the Tête du Chien deepened to a purple black. The mountain seemed -to cast a sinister shadow over the Condamine, and the pink roofs -darkened to a dull crimson. Hugh suggested to the professor that they -had better stay at home, but the old man insisted upon going to the -Rooms. As they left the house they heard the first ominous growl of the -thunder. Hugh wanted to take a carriage but again his companion refused. - -“No,” he said, “the walk to and from the Casino is the only exercise I -get since that balcony business.” - -The business of the balcony had been a bad one. Across the front of the -house, just outside their windows, ran a flimsy wooden balcony, with a -division of lattice work between each room. The professor used to march -up and down his portion of the balcony, while Hugh and Margot often sat -in theirs. - -One Sunday evening they were all on the balcony when they heard a -crack, followed by a rending crash. As it happened both Hugh and Margot -were near the window, and threw themselves backwards. The professor, -too, saved himself by clutching at the sill of his window. The entire -balcony collapsed. It overturned, hung for a moment, then fell with -a rending of timbers. On examining the debris Hugh found that the -supports had been sawn almost through, and that the cuts were quite -fresh. Some one had evidently done it during the night. - -A week later when Hugh was returning home after midnight a man rushed -past him on the stairs. On the landing beside his door a pungent smoke -was coming from a sack of shavings. Beside it was a large can of -petrol. He beat out the fire. Had he arrived five minutes later the -place would have been in flames. After that he got some ropes, so that -in the case of future attempts to fire the place, they might escape by -the windows. He also bought a Browning pistol. - -That morning, as they entered the Casino, there was a livid blaze of -lightning, followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder. Perhaps -the professor was affected by the storm, for his game was not so -successful as usual; he played seven _coups_ before he struck a winning -number. Though his winnings were only thirty thousand francs, he -decided that he had had enough and rose from the table. They heard the -roar of the rain on the great dome above them, and found on going to -the entrance a most appalling downpour. It was falling in crystal rods -that beat the oozing earth to bubbles. There was not a soul in sight. - -“It’s useless trying to get a cab,” said Hugh. “Let us go back to the -atrium and wait till it clears up.” - -They took a seat on one of the benches at the side of the refreshment -bar and waited for an hour without any sign of the torrent abating. -Every now and then Hugh would go to the door and look out. The day had -darkened to a wan twilight in which the silver shafts of rain pearled -the pools and rivulets. - -“One might as well stand under a shower-bath as go out in that,” -thought Hugh. “It would be the death of the professor.” And again he -sighed for a voiture. - -As he looked out for the tenth time he saw Margot making her way to the -Casino through sheets of water. She wore his Burberry and the rain ran -off her in streams. She was panting and pale with excitement. - -“What’s the matter?” - -“Oh, I’m so glad I’ve found you. When the professor came back alone, I -was afraid something was wrong.” - -“Professor come back alone! ... what do you mean?” - -“Why, he’s there, in his room. When I heard him come up the stairs and -enter, I went to see if you were there, too. As I knocked at the door, -I heard him moving about inside. I knocked again, but there was no -answer. All was quiet. What with the storm and everything else I got -nervous and excited. After knocking a couple of times more I came here -to find you.” - -Hugh listened with growing amazement. - -“Are you quite sure there’s some one in the professor’s room?” - -“Yes, yes!” - -Leading her into the atrium he pointed to the buffet. - -“There’s the professor.” - -“But the other ... the man in the house ... now....” - -“Stay with the professor. Don’t leave him. This looks serious.” - -Without waiting for the coat she held out to him, he rushed into the -rain and down the long steep hill, splashing through water and mud. -In a few minutes, drenched and breathless, he reached the house. He -mounted the stairs softly, pistol in hand. Whoever had entered had left -the door on the latch. He burst into the room. - -A man who had been bending over the steel safe rose and swung around. - -“Don’t shoot,” he said sharply. He stood there, erect, composed, -smiling. - -“Krantz!” - -“Precisely. What a pity you did not come ten minutes later. Then I -should have finished my investigations.” - -“Your burglary, you mean. I’ve a good mind to call the police.” - -“My dear man, I _am_ the police.” - -“I am justified in shooting you.” - -“If you did, you would surely regret it. Remember, young man, you’re -not in England, you’re not in France; you’re in Monaco.” - -“Does that justify _you_?” - -“When the welfare of our beloved Principality is at stake, I am -justified in many things,--even in the examination of private strong -boxes.” - -“Assassination too, I suppose.” - -“Oh no! I draw the line at that. In the Principality we strongly -disapprove of all violent measures.” - -“What about the balcony, and the attempt to fire the house?” - -“I assure you, on my honour, I had nothing to do with either. Of -course, I am unable to answer for the zeal of my subordinates. They -are Monegasques and patriots. You can understand their point of view. -They believe that one man’s life weighs as nothing against the welfare -of the community. They would willingly sacrifice their lives for their -country; but they prefer to sacrifice some one else’s life. They are a -crude and violent race. You must excuse their ardour.” - -“So you know nothing of those two attempts.” - -“Officially, no. Of course, privately I have my ideas. I did not go -into the matter very closely. You see I have a sense of delicacy, -of tact. I am modern in my conceptions; I deprecate the gentle art -of assassination. But again I repeat I am not responsible for the -excessive zeal of my subordinates. They are just grown up children, -many of them, passionate and impulsive. In the same way those whom -I serve are not responsible for my acts,--this investigation, for -instance. In fact, I am sure they would condemn it in the strongest of -terms. Abuse of authority, they would call it, and wax duly indignant. -But please put away that silly little pistol you are fingering so -nervously. It annoys me. I have no sense of the dramatic.” - -Hugh lowered his hand and Krantz went on with his urbane smile: - -“You know I saved all your lives on one occasion. One of my gentle -patriots wanted to put a charge of dynamite under your rooms and blow -you to the stars. Fortunately I found out in time, and prevented it. -After all it would have caused a great scandal. Violence and scandal we -do not like; we want everything to run smoothly in this most favoured -of spots. That’s what I’m here for,--to see that things run smoothly. -That is why a moment ago you found me attempting the combination of -that safe. And now having failed in my mission, I presume you will -allow me to go.” - -With that Krantz made a deep bow and passed from the room. Hugh stared -after his retreating back as he leisurely descended the narrow stairway. - - -3. - -Now that Hugh’s gambling fever had abated he found himself looking at -the players with apathy, even with disgust. He was purged, not by loss, -but by gain. The thought of the fifty thousand francs he had wrested -from the bank was like honey to him. Never would he give them a chance -to win it back. The Casino itself had also ceased to interest him. -Incidents that had been at first exciting, now appeared monotonous. The -human debris no longer fascinated him. The spectacle of the squirming, -scrabbling mob bored him. The systematizers with their fatuous -convictions aroused his contempt; the besotted votaries of the game, -his pity. More than all he hated the careless rich who squandered in -an idle hour what would have kept many a widow from misery and many an -orphan from shame. - -More than ever he thought of that little cottage at Villefranche, -between the silent mountains and the dreamy sea; and of that Panhard he -was going to buy at a bargain price. He confided his discontent to the -professor. - -“I’m getting awfully fed up with Monte. We can’t go on indefinitely. -Isn’t it time that you speeded up the system a little?” - -“You are right,” sighed the professor, “but it fatigues me so, and the -atmosphere of the Rooms aggravates my catarrh. Why will you not play? -You are well instructed now.” - -“I don’t want to. As I said before, I don’t hate the Casino. While -I wouldn’t move a finger to prevent their ruin, I wouldn’t go out -of my way to accomplish it. Then again, if I played, I should want -to play for myself, not for society. To hell with society! It never -did anything for me. Up to now I’ve had to fight and struggle. It is -by sheer luck that I’ve got a little working capital and I mean to -make the most of it. I’m only a selfish practical individual. I’ve no -consuming wish to benefit mankind, to do the ‘leave the world better -than I found it,’ sort of thing. If ever I have enough to keep me in -modest comfort, I’ll stop work and spend my time painting. No, I fear -I’m no philanthropist.... How much do you want to win for your schemes -before you proceed to give the Casino the final knock out?” - -“Fifty million.” - -“And we have only ten. Heigh ho! I tell you I don’t think I can stick -it out.” - -“I quite understand. Try to endure it two weeks more and then we’ll -see.” - -Hugh continued to accompany the professor and to watch him with -monotonous certainty make his seventy or eighty thousand francs a -day. His association with the old man had made him quite a celebrated -character. He shone with a reflected radiance, a moon to the old man’s -sun. He was supposed to be a partner, a sharer in the colossal fortune, -the professor’s heir and successor. - -Many of the players were leaving Monte Carlo, for the season was -over. Mr. Tope had returned to his Kentish cottage and his roses. The -Calderbrooks, not being able to afford the mountains, had convinced -themselves that Monte was even more charming in summer than in winter. -The father looked tired, but amiably acquiesced. - -“Of course,” said Mrs. Calderbrook, “we don’t promise to stay. If we -have a bit of luck at the tables, we might take a month or two at -Chamounix.” - -The tall Brazilian with the spade-shaped beard was still a dominating -figure in the Rooms. He wore great, horn-rimmed spectacles of a -yellowish colour and walked up and down in an impeccable costume of -white serge, his hands behind his back, his carriage that of deliberate -dignity. He looked at the women harder than was necessary, though he -repulsed all their efforts to speak with him. Once Hugh saw him turn -to stare at the tall female in grey. In spite of the growing heat she -continued to wear her veil and remained as mysterious as ever. She came -less frequently, but still seemed to have lots of money. - -Of the old crowd there remained only MacTaggart and Mr. Gimp and they -made their exit from the scene in a very sensational manner. - - -4. - -As MacTaggart had already paid him two thousand francs, Hugh insisted -on cancelling the debt between them. MacTaggart was over eight thousand -francs ahead, and continued to play with hundred franc counters. -Curiously enough, his luck began to leave him as soon as he gambled -entirely for himself. - -“It’s fair playin’ auld Harry wi’ ma nerves,” he said. “The ither day I -near fented at the table. After a’ they years, I’m thinkin’, I’ll hea -tae gie it up. Ma system’s willin’ but the flesh is weak. I’m gettin’ -that every time I put a stake on the table ma hert dings like an alarm -clock. An’ ma temper. I don’t know whit I’m no’ capable o’ daein’ at -times. It’s as if I had a kind o’ a brain-storm. There’s whiles I’m -fair feart for masel’. I often think that if I wis once mair back in ma -wee shop in Strathbungo, I’d never want tae see a roulette wheel for -the rest o’ ma days.” - -“What kind of a shop had you?” - -“I’m a taxidermist, and though I say it masel’, there’s no’ a better. -It’s a nice quiet trade, soothin’ tae the nerves. That’s whit’s the -matter wi’ me, ma nerves.” - -MacTaggart would probably have stayed until he had lost all his gains, -had not a kindly fate stepped in and settled the matter for him. - -He had been playing for three hours,--losing all the time. His head -ached, his nerves were raw, his temper near to the breaking point. -He wanted to smoke a cigarette in the atrium, but had to leave some -one to take down his numbers. Beside him was a lady who was playing -occasionally. She looked hot and very tired. MacTaggart asked her -if she would mind occupying his seat for half an hour. She gladly -consented, and he rose to give her the place. At the same moment, a -red, truculent-looking Englishman on his other side, quickly put a -louis on the table in front of MacTaggart. - -“I claim the place,” he said sharply. - -MacTaggart turned and glared at him. “But I’m givin’ the place tae the -leddy,” he said. - -“The place is mine,” said the man. “You rose and I put down my money. I -appeal to the _Chef du Table_.” - -The latter nodded. “By all the rules the place is monsieur’s; monsieur -has put down his money, marking the place.” - -MacTaggart was angry. He knew the croupiers did not like him, that they -always decided against him if possible. He sat down again. - -“All right,” he said, “in that case I’ll jist keep ma place. I’ll sit -here till Hell freezes over before ye get it.” - -The face of the Englishman grew very red. His voice rose nastily. - -“But I insist on having the place. This man rose and I put my money -down. The place is clearly mine.” - -“Yes,” said the _Chef du Table_, “it is evident that the place is -monsieur’s.” - -“I’ll see ye dawmed firrst,” said MacTaggart, sitting square. “There’s -no force in Monte Carlo ’ill budge me from this spot. Tak’ awaw yer -dirrty money....” - -He started to push away the man’s louis that lay in front of him. - -“Here, don’t touch my money. Don’t dare to touch my money,” the -Englishman exclaimed. - -MacTaggart’s reply was to take the louis and flip it back at him. -Every one was aghast. It was unheard of, an outrage. One of the -lymphatic lackeys recovered the money and handed it to its owner, who -was boiling over with rage. There is no knowing how the row might -have ended had not a player opposite risen to catch a train, and the -_Chef_, with great presence of mind, promptly claimed the place for the -Englishman. The situation was saved. _Tant Mieux._ That mad Ecossais -looked quite dangerous. - -MacTaggart and the red-faced man sat opposite each other, and muttered, -growled, and glared. Then the second incident occurred. Just as the -ball was about to drop, MacTaggart pushed a placque to the croupier. - -“Passe, please.” - -But the croupier did not hear him correctly and threw it on pair, and -at that moment the ball fell. - -“_Vingt sept, passe impair et noir._” - -“But I telt ye tae pit it on passe,” said MacTaggart. - -“No, monsieur said pair,” declared the croupier. - -The _Chef_ was appealed to. “Monsieur should have seen that his money -was rightly staked,” said the _Chef_ looking annoyed. - -“Pay me,” cried MacTaggart, rising and clenching his fist. - -He was ignored and the ball started for the next spin. Then MacTaggart -did something unprecedented, something outrageous. He took up one of -the _rateaus_ and jammed it in the bowl of the wheel. - -“By Goad,” said MacTaggart, “I’ll stop the bloody game till ye pay me.” - -At this moment the red-faced man came in to the discussion. “I knew he -was a crook,” he jeered. “Turn the beggar out.” - -MacTaggart stared at him. For a moment he could not believe his ears, -then a great glow came into his eyes and he swung the _rateau_ and -brought it down on the man’s head. - -“Let me get at him,” he roared, “I’ll show him.” - -The _Chef_ laid a detaining hand on his shoulder, but MacTaggart swung -round and caught him on the chin. The _Chef_ went from his high chair -like a ninepin. Shouting something in Gaelic, MacTaggart sprang on the -table. Two croupiers tried to hold him back; but, using the _rateau_ -like a claymore, he rapped each on the head and with a leap was on the -man with the red face. - -“Turn me oot!” he shouted. “It wad tak a dizzen o’ the likes o’ you tae -dae it.” - -He had the big man down and was pounding him with both fists, when four -of the lethargic lackeys threw themselves into the fray. MacTaggart -saw red. He ran amuck. Right and left he struck in Berserker rage. -His long arms were like flails before which men went down; croupiers, -attendants, inspectors, all staggered back beneath his blows. A -superintendent who ran up to see what was wrong, received a punch that -landed him on his back. As MacTaggart burst through the doorway into -the “Hall of Gloom,” the director of the games rushed up. - -“Look out,” said the big Scotchman, “or as sure as my name’s Galloway -MacTaggart I’ll fell ye tae the floor.” - -The director did not look out and was duly downed. Then a group of -lackeys, by a concerted rush, succeeded in mastering him. They knocked -him down and hung onto his heaving arms and legs. They lifted him to -carry him to the door. The MacTaggart was conquered. - -But was he? No, not yet. From the other end of the “Hall of Light” -a shrill yell suddenly split the air. It was something between the -execration of a college football coach, and the war whoop of a red -Indian. A little white-haired gentleman was covering the intervening -space in great leaps and bounds. He roared and whirled his arms, his -eyes aflame, his very hair bristling with fury. It was Mr. Gimp. - -The attendants released MacTaggart, and turned to face this new foe. -The fight began all over again. - -It was Homeric, for Mr. Gimp had once been a bantam champion of the -ring. There were bloody noses and broken teeth; there were curses -and cries of pain; there were black eyes and bruised ribs before the -indomitable two, overwhelmed by numbers, were carried to the door. The -fray had lasted a quarter of an hour. - -“Weel,” said MacTaggart that night as they sat in Quinto’s, “I’m -thinkin’, Gimpy, auld man, we’ve lost oor tickets. We’ll no’ daur show -oor faces in that place ony mair.” - -“No,” said Mr. Gimp, “the spell’s broken at last. I’m a free man. -To-morrow I’m off to the land where the handshake’s warmer.” - -“An’ me fur Strathbungo. Eh, man, they got us oot, but it took a score -o’ them tae dae it. An’ by Goad! we laft oor mark on every mither’s -son.” - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -TEMPTATION - - -1. - -Hugh continued to be haunted by thoughts of Mrs. Belmire. At times he -felt he would throw up everything to follow her; at others he consigned -her to the devil. He had resolved to let her make the first advance and -carefully avoided meeting her. - -One day on returning home, Margot handed him an envelope bearing the -initials M. B. He was not altogether pleased and put it in his pocket -until he should be alone. He tore it open later and read: - -“_How could I be so horrid to you the last time we met? Can you forgive -me enough to meet me this evening at Ciro’s at ten o’clock? It will -probably be adieu. I am leaving for Vichy on Friday._” - -The humility of the note touched him. She had put herself in the wrong. -Nothing like a show of indifference with women, he thought. His vanity -was flattered. A sentiment of generosity akin to tenderness glowed in -him. Quite eagerly he awaited the evening. - -She arrived a little late, wearing a very exquisite evening gown. -She rightly believed that her shoulders and arms added to her charm. -She took his hand in a firm, good-fellow grip. As she sat down he -was conscious of the perfume she affected. She seemed to him to be -stunning, the real thing, a _femme de luxe_. - -Her manner was subdued to the point of mournfulness. It was one -of her favourite moods and was in harmony with the melancholy of -the restaurant. The orchestra played dispiritedly. Two teams of -professional dancers shimmied in a forlorn fashion. Even the waiters -looked listless. - -“This place will be closing soon,” she sighed. “Monte is dying. All the -right sort have gone already. I feel almost like a derelict. I’m bored -to the verge of tears. For God’s sake do something to console me. Buy -me a bottle of Cliquot.” - -When the waiter brought it in its silver bucket of ice, the bottle -looked very comforting. As they sipped, she grew more cheerful. - -“Thank goodness I’m going. I say, why don’t you come, too? Do the giddy -round,--Paris for the Grand Prix, Deauville, Biarritz,--one meets the -same crowd at all these places, the world that lives to enjoy itself. -Let’s enjoy ourselves.” - -“I don’t belong to that world. I’m a quiet chap. I want a quiet life.” - -“And I--I want a gay one. But I’m lonely. God! at times I’m so lonely, -I could shoot myself or get drunk. I say, let’s get drunk to-night.” - -“You’re joking.” - -“Yes, I suppose I am. But that’s just how I feel. I don’t know why. -Perhaps its because I won’t see you again. Oh, I say,--be a priceless -darling. Do come.” - -He shrugged his shoulders. He felt her power, the melting appeal of her -eyes, the caress of her hand. Passion was invading him. He wanted to -seize her, crush her, hurt her. “Why not,” he thought, “a month of that -gay life! It would cost a good deal, but perhaps it would be worth it. -A delirious month....” Then he heard himself saying: - -“No, it’s no use. I can’t go.” - -She stamped her foot pettishly. The spell was broken. After a little -she resumed: - -“Well, if you won’t come with me, you won’t refuse to help me. I’m -in debt all round. I owe quite a lot of money to the pension, too. I -don’t know how much. I have no head for figures. I’m like a child in -financial matters. I say, dear boy, you’ll lend me a bit, won’t you? -I’ve counted on you, you know.” - -He winced. His lips tightened. - -“How much?” - -“Oh, a little bunch of _milles_. Ten or twenty will do. What does it -matter to you? You’re rich. You’re making millions. You’re not stingy, -are you?” - -He felt the time had come for an explanation. “Look here,” he said, -“you’re all wrong. You assumed from the start I was a somebody and -had something. I’m really a nobody and I have nothing. You might even -call me an adventurer. I came here broken in health and practically -penniless. Now I am strong and fit again. And I have some money, fifty -thousand francs, which I managed to wrench from the Casino. That’s all -I’ve got, I swear it. I’m not mean, but I’ve known bitter poverty and -don’t want to know it again.” - -She was looking at him in sheer amazement. He warmed to his subject, -and spoke with a gusto that was almost malicious. - -“That money means life to me. It means a home, a chance to make a -living by healthy, agreeable work. I’m going to buy a car. Next year -if you’re here and you see me standing in line waiting for a job, -you can hire me. Now you know me. That’s the sort I am, a penniless -adventurer. I should have told you before, but I enjoyed being with you -so much that I postponed the confession. Well, that’s over any way. And -now what are you going to do?” - -For a full minute she was speechless. Then she said breathlessly: - -“But you are making millions, you and that old man. Every one knows it. -You are partners....” - -“No, not partners. I never touch a _sou_ of what he makes.” - -“But ... he’s like a father to you. He’ll give you anything you want. A -million if you ask. I am sure.” - -“I don’t intend to ask.” - -“I don’t understand,” said Mrs. Belmire. - -“No, I don’t think you do; I don’t think you can. I’m sorry, but.... -Hullo! there’s that fellow Vulning. By Jove! he’s coming in here. Drunk -as a tinker, too, I’ll swear.” - -She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. She sat silent, her chin propped -on her hands, staring into vacancy with stormy, scornful eyes. Yes, she -was lovely. Now that he had told her everything he was half sorry. She -was lost to him. She would turn on him presently, and call him a most -unmerciful bounder. Well, he deserved it. He waited. He felt sorry for -her, she seemed so bowled over. Then suddenly she turned to him, fixing -him with an intense gaze. - -“I counted on you. Oh, how I counted on you!” - -Tears and reproach were in her voice. At that moment he almost yielded, -almost promised her the money. Even as he hesitated, his attention was -attracted by Paul Vulning. - -Vulning was standing at the bar. He was dressed in a golfing suit and -looked as if he had been on a long debauch. His face was puffy and -muddily red, his cheeks and chin bristly; his eyes fishy when they were -not wild. He stared round the room, and recognized Mrs. Belmire, but he -did not notice Hugh. - -“Hullo! Marion,” he cried. “Come on, old girl, and have a Scotch.” - -She did not pay any attention, but continued to brood, her chin in her -cupped hands. He shouted once more. - -“Here, don’t be haughty. You weren’t always too proud to drink at a -bar. Well, I’ll come over and join you.” - -Carrying his glass unsteadily, he made his way towards them. - -“Brute!” said Hugh. - -“Don’t take any notice of him,” said Mrs. Belmire contemptuously. “He’s -always beastly when he’s in that state.” - -Vulning halted. - -“Excuse me. Didn’t notice you had a fellow. Never mind. We’re all pals -here, ain’t we?” - -He sat down unsteadily. “All pals.... _Damn you!_” - -He had suddenly recognized Hugh, and he bent forward with a snarl like -that of an angry dog. - -“You bloody whipper-snapper.... Bah!” - -Hugh restrained himself with difficulty, and sat tense. The frown on -Mrs. Belmire’s face deepened. Vulning’s snarl gradually relaxed to a -sneer. He meant mischief. - -“You’re looking rippin’ to-night, Marion. ’Pon my soul I never saw you -looking so stunning.” - -He put out a rather dirty hand and patted her white shoulder. She drew -back. - -“Don’t touch me, you beast!” - -Hugh broke in tempestuously. “Don’t do that again, you dog, or I’ll -knock you down.” - -Vulning gave a sneering laugh, then suddenly grew fierce. - -“Why shouldn’t I do it if I choose? What’s it got to do with you, you -young whelp? What can you do?” - -“I can make you respect a lady in my presence.” - -“Respect! Lady!” Vulning burst into a roar of laughter. “That a lady! -_That!_ Why, man, she’s been my mistress. She’s been the mistress of -a dozen men I know. She’s anybody’s woman. Respect! Her! Oh you young -fool! You poor flat.... _Ach!_” - -He choked. Hugh had clutched him by the collar and was shaking him -savagely. Vulning struck out wildly, but Hugh hurled him to the floor -and stood over him. - -“Come on,” said Mrs. Belmire wearily, “I’m going.” - -She went to the door alone, pulling her cloak over her dazzling -shoulders. Hugh hesitated, then followed her. - -“I’d better see you home,” he said. - -“Home!” she laughed bitterly. “I had a home once. I don’t suppose I’ll -ever have another.” - -“Was it true? What he said?” - -Her voice was hard, scornful. “Yes, all true. What would you? I must -live. I was brought up to do nothing. My husband died leaving me only -his debts. Try to understand! Put yourself in my place. Men are brutes. -A woman must prey or be preyed on. You are the first decent, clean man -I’ve met since ... oh, ever so long. And you’ve never suspected?...” - -“No, I didn’t think _that_ of you. I suppose it was because I didn’t -want to think it. I thought you were foolish, worldly, of limited -means but straight, quite straight. I swear I did.” - -“And now that you know you will never see me again?” - -“I don’t know. I must think it out. We have both been deceived in the -other.” - -“Yes, we must both think it out. Here’s the pension. Good-night.” - -“Good-night.” - - -2. - -Two days later Hugh persuaded the professor to play more rapidly, with -the result that in less than two hours the old man had won nearly two -hundred thousand francs. The effort exhausted him and he retired to his -bed for the day. He intended to repeat the performance the next morning. - -When Hugh returned, he found Margot laying the table for lunch. He -noticed that her hands trembled. Though quiet and reserved as always, -she had a strange sullen set to her mouth and a resentful look in her -eyes. Presently she said: - -“A lady came to see you this morning.” - -“A lady! Here! Who was it?” - -“A haughty English lady,--with dyed hair.” - -With some annoyance Hugh applied this description to Mrs. Belmire. - -“What did she say?” - -“I did not let her in. She took me for the domestic. I was scrubbing -the kitchen and not very tidy. I said you were out and I had not the -faintest idea when you would be in.” - -“Yes?” - -“She then said: ‘Tell him I will dine at the Carlton to-night at -eight, and expect him to have dinner with me.’ I bobbed my head and -answered, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Then she said, ‘Do you think you can give that -message correctly, my girl?’ I answered again, ‘Yes, ma’am. I think my -intelligence will be equal to the strain you are putting on it.’ She -then offered me a franc but I refused it.” - -“Damn it! I’m sorry she came.... I mean I’m sorry you were put in such -a position.” - -“I think I’d better go away. Is that the lady you go about with so -much?” - -“How do you know I go about with her?” - -“I’ve seen you; lots of times. She’s a bad woman, I tell you. I know -all about her. She’s ruined lots of men. She’ll ruin you, too.” - -The girl seemed to be trembling with suppressed rage. Hugh became angry. - -“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself,” he said coldly. - -“Are you going to see her to-night?” - -“I don’t see what that’s got to do with you.” - -“Because if you do, I won’t stay here. I’ll leave to-night. I swear I -will.” - -“You seem determined to create an atmosphere of unpleasantness. I don’t -like it. I’ll go and get lunch elsewhere.” - -He ate at the Bristol. Later, he took a walk, went for a swim, had tea -at Scapini’s, and strolled about the “Cheese.” He could not get the -thought of Margot out of his head. What had got into her? It was none -of her business whom he went with. He would not let any one exercise -a control over his actions. As for her going away, it was an empty -threat. She had said the same thing before. What did Mrs. Belmire want -with him? It would be safer, perhaps, not to see her again. It was -playing with fire.... - -At seven o’clock, nevertheless, he went home and changed into his -evening clothes. As he was going out Margot stood by the door. - -“You’re going, then?” - -“Yes,” he said curtly. - -“Very well, then, I warn you; you won’t find me here when you come -back.” - -“Do as you please. You are entirely mistress of your own actions.” - -He passed her, slamming the door. - - -3. - -He found Mrs. Belmire waiting for him. She had reserved a table in one -of the alcoves and looked very bewitching. - -“This is my farewell supper. I had intended to invite some other men; -then I thought it would be nicer, just we two.” - -Mrs. Belmire’s invitations to supper always included the privilege -of paying for it. She seemed to have made up her mind to be the most -charming of hostesses. She ordered an exquisite brand of champagne -and kept Hugh’s glass filled. She talked vivaciously, with long deep -looks into his eyes, and little caressing touches of her hands. She -nestled close to him, so close that it was disconcerting to look down -on the delicious curves of dazzling flesh, emerging in such radiant and -insolent beauty from a gown that sheathed her to the bust in front, and -was cut to the waist behind. - -It was a gala night. There was a gay crowd of dancers; brilliant -Chinese lanterns were strung closely overhead, and the walls and -columns were covered with fanciful decorations of coloured crêpe paper. - -“Don’t you love it all?” she sighed. “Light, love, laughter,--what a -part they play in life.” - -He was inclined to agree with her. The triumphant wine was singing -through his veins; the mad music was goading him to a frenzy of -happiness; the dazzling shoulders and gleaming arms of Mrs. Belmire -were pagan in their beauty. The whole combination, wine, woman, song, -was for him. Every fibre of his will was weakening in this atmosphere -of sheer delight. - -“She’s got me going,” he almost groaned. When she turned away her head -he emptied his champagne on the floor. - -Seeing his glass empty she plied him with another. “You don’t drink -anything,” she said. “Come, it’s a poor heart that never rejoices. -Let’s abandon ourselves. It’s so jolly nice to be together like this. I -wish it could last forever.” - -The champagne was taking possession of his sense. He saw her through -a roseate mist, a wholly voluptuous, desireful creature. He had drunk -nearly two-thirds of the wine; more would be fatal. To avoid real -intoxication, he stimulated a slight false one. - -“No more of the damned stuff,” he said roughly. “My head’s all buzzing -with it. It’s poison. The tears of widows and orphans, the widows and -orphans the old professor’s working for....” - -She leaned forward eagerly. “I heard you made quite a lot to-day.” - -“He made nearly quarter of a million ... for his widows and orphans.” - -“Why for them? Why not for you, for us?” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Wouldn’t you like to be rich? Wouldn’t you like to have a life like -this always,--flowers, music, good wine, delicate food, a life of -luxury?” - -“No, I wouldn’t. I want quiet and simplicity. I don’t want to be rich.” - -“Oh, you make me lose patience. You say you would like to be a painter. -Well, why not study,--Paris, Rome and so on?” - -“That takes money. I haven’t got it.” - -“Yes, you have. All you want. Millions!” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I’ll tell you later. Have some more wine.” - -“No, no. I’ve had enough. You want to make me drunk. Come on, let’s -leave this cursed _bordel_. My head’s splitting. I want fresh air.” - -“Poor boy! You want to lie down a bit. I say, come and stretch, _chez -moi_. You can smoke a cigarette and have a snooze if you like. It’s -quiet there.” - -He would have broken away, but she held his arm and called a _voiture_. -It was exactly ten o’clock when they left the restaurant and descended -to the Pension Pizzicato. Once in the open air the fumes of the wine -affected him with sudden drowsiness. - -“Look here,” he said, “I do believe I’m a bit squiffy. Perhaps I’d -better lie down on your sofa for half an hour.” - -“That’s a good boy. Come on.” - -He remembered descending unsteadily from the _voiture_ and stumbling up -to her room. They met no one on the way. He threw himself on her divan -and closed his eyes. - - -4. - -When he opened them again she was bending over him. She wore a lilac -peignoir that clothed her loosely. As he looked at her, surprised, she -said: - -“My dear boy, how’s your poor head? You know you’ve slept nearly two -hours. And look who’s here,--Mr. Fetterstein. He came just a few -minutes after we did. We’ve been chatting.” - -Fetterstein was comfortably seated, smoking a huge cigar, and drinking -a whiskey and soda. He grunted amiably to Hugh. - -“Yey, boy! Some snorer too, hey, Mrs. B.? Well, feelin’ better?” - -“Yes, thanks. I’m all right now.” - -“Have a cigar?” - -“No, thanks.” - -“Well, if you’ll excuse me I’ll hit the hay. I’m not the night-hawk I -used to be. Gettin’ old, hey! I’ll leave the rounder game to you young -bloods. Good-night, young chap.” - -When he had gone Mrs. Belmire came impulsively to Hugh and knelt by the -side of his chair. - -“My poor darling! Are you really feeling better? We talked low so as -not to disturb you. Old Fetterstein’s not a bad sort. You mustn’t mind -him. You know he wants me to go to Vichy with him. He will pay all my -debts.” - -“Are you going?” - -“I don’t want to. I want to go with you. Let’s go to Venice. It’s a -dream.” - -He looked at her in a dazed way. She put her arms around his neck. - -“Oh, come. You’re the only man I love in all the world. In a few more -years I will be _passée_; but now I am at my very best. Look at me. -Don’t I please you? Take me. I’ll be everything to you as long as you -like. When you tire of me, I’ll go. I’ll be yours, all yours. I’m not -fickle. I’ll love you, you alone. You won’t regret it. We’ll live in -places that glitter and glow; we will drink to the full the wine of -life. Oh, take me, take me....” - -“I don’t understand. How can I do these things? I’m not a man of -wealth....” - -“Oh, yes, you are, if you like. There’s the old professor. You know how -to play as he does. You can get hold of his books, copy his figures. -We’ll go to San Sebastien, Buenos Ayres, everywhere roulette is -allowed. Play, play for yourself. Become rich. Life without money is -hell. Come! you’ll do it. Won’t you, won’t you....” - -She clung to him. He looked at her with something like horror. - -“You want me to _steal_ the professor’s system?” - -“Yes, if you want to put it that way. Why not? He’s old, half mad. -Charity begins at home. Why not?” - -“Never!” - -“You will ... you will....” - -She seemed to be holding him with all the strength of her body; she -kissed him like a mad thing. He could feel her hot panting breath on -his face, see her eyes burn into his. - -“No, a thousand times no!” - -She was like a splendid animal mad with passion. He rose and wrenching -her arms apart, backed away from her, a look of repulsion in his eyes. -She saw it and knew she was defeated. - -She crouched by the empty chair, her head dropping on her outstretched -arms. She seemed to be sobbing. - -He paused by the door. Something forlorn in her attitude touched him. - -“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I were mad for love of you, I would do -anything you asked me, but ... I’m not. I can’t go with you because I -don’t care for you in that way. I realize it now. Perhaps I should have -known it sooner. Please forgive me.” - -She rose and faced him. - -“Forgive you.... You poor fool! Did you think I meant it? Why, I was -only acting. Did you think I cared for you? It’s only money I care for, -money, money. I offered myself to you and you refused me. You are the -only man who ever did that. It’s that that hurts. You’ve wounded me in -a way time will never heal. I hate you, hate you! Oh, I could kill you. -Go!...” - -She pointed to the door, then turning, once again dropped beside the -chair. She was really crying now, shaken with great rending sobs. - -He left her. As he passed in front of the dark Casino, the pinkish face -of the clock showed it to be one in the morning. All the way downhill -to the Condamine he did not meet a soul. There was no moon; and the -quietness was almost eerie. - -The passage leading to the house was as dark as a tunnel of anthracite. -He plunged into its blackness, then stopped short. A man was blocking -his way. Instinctively his hand went to his hip pocket for his -automatic. Assassins.... - -Then a second man, darting from behind, gripped his arms. He struggled -madly; but the first man, closing in, struck at him with something -hard, and he remembered no more. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -ARREST - - -“Where am I?” - -About him were bare, white-washed walls; the light came by grudgingly -through a small barred window that gave on rock and shrub. He struggled -to a sitting position on the pallet bed on which he lay. The place -reeled round and round. He groaned, and put his hand to his head. It -was bandaged. It ached atrociously. What had happened? He tried to -think, but thinking was painful. Memory returned in gleams and dashes. -Bit by bit the evening before came back to him. But how to account for -his present position? He gave up the effort and lay down again. - -A man entered, a rather grim, brown man in a kind of uniform. - -“Monsieur has awakened?” - -“Yes, what place is this?” - -“It is the detention room of the Monaco Police Station.” - -“But why am I here?” - -“Monsieur was arrested only this morning.” - -“Arrested! Good Heavens! Why?” - -“Ah! that is not for me to say. Monsieur will be brought before the -examining magistrate in an hour. Will monsieur take _petit déjeuner_?” - -“Bring me some strong coffee. It may buck me up.” - -The coffee cleared his head wonderfully and helped him to realize his -position. He had been arrested last night by those two men in the -dark entry. They certainly had used him roughly enough. He would make -a deuce of a row about that. The whole thing was outrageous, an error -or else a dastardly plot. Then he became uneasy. Anything might happen -here. He was at the mercy of the powers that be. They might throw him -into one of the dungeons of the Castle. Sinister forebodings invaded -him. - -Presently two policemen came for him, and he walked between them to a -large room where three men were sitting at a curving desk. Their backs -were to a double window but he was placed in the glare of the strong -light. - -The three men were dusky Monegascans. They wore black frock coats and -black bow ties. The centre one was severe and stout, the one on the -right severe and thin, the third was young, intelligent and amiable -looking. It was evident they were important personages in the judiciary -system of the Principality, probably the examining magistrate, the -state attorney and the chief of police. The stout one addressed him -curtly. - -“Your name is Hugh Kildair?” - -“Yes.” - -“You inhabit a room on the third floor of the Villa Lorenza?” - -“Yes.” - -The magistrate consulted his notes. There was a silence. Hugh saw six -piercing eyes fixed on his face. - -“Can you account for your movements from ten o’clock until midnight -yesterday evening?” - -Hugh reflected that his movements during that time consisted of -somewhat stertorous respirations on the sofa of Mrs. Belmire’s sitting -room, and hesitated. But after all, he thought, he had no need to be -reticent as far as Mrs. Belmire was concerned. He resented those -damned descendants of Saracen pirates, though. What had they against -him? - -“I don’t understand,” he protested. “What have I been arrested for? -It’s an outrage. I’ll appeal to the British consul.” - -The youngest of the men interposed smoothly. “You do not seem to -realize the seriousness of your position, monsieur. You will do well to -answer the question.” - -Hugh was impressed. - -“Well,” he said, “I was with a lady, if you wish to know.” - -“Kindly give us her name.” - -“A Mrs. Belmire, an English lady.” - -The three exchanged glances. The thin one shrugged his shoulders. The -pleasant one smiled meaningly. - -“She is known to us,” said the fat one. “Will you be so good as to tell -us where and how you passed the entire evening.” - -Hugh repressed his growing indignation. He answered sullenly enough: - -“I met her at eight at the Carlton. We had dinner. At ten we took a -_voiture_ and went to her hotel. There I fell asleep on her sofa and -awoke about twelve. I remained till nearly one, when I left for my -room. In the dark entry of the house where I live, my way was barred -by a man.... But then you know more than I do about what happened from -then on.” - -“Why did you attempt to draw your pistol?” - -“I was nervous. In the past few weeks there have been attempts to -injure me.” - -The pleasant looking man nodded confirmation to this. The thin man then -said: - -“We had better get hold of the English lady at once. She is not -the most desirable of witnesses, but ... if what monsieur says is -supported, he has an undeniable alibi and we can release him.” - -“Release me! Of course, you will. What have I done, tell me. What am I -charged with?” - -“There is no charge yet. You are arrested on suspicion only.” - -“Of what?” - -The three looked at each other. Then the fat one bent forward -dramatically. - -“Of murder.” - -“Good God! Whose murder?” - -The lean one fixed his piercing eyes on Hugh’s face. - -“_Professor Durand was murdered in his room last night, between ten and -twelve._” - -All three watched him closely. He was dazed by the shock. He stared at -them blankly. - -“Horrible!” he murmured. “The poor old man ... murdered!...” - -“Yes, stabbed to the heart.” - -“But who did it? Why have you arrested me?” - -“Because the concierge says he saw you go up to the old man’s room a -little after ten, and leave a little after eleven.” - -“Me!” - -“Yes. If you can prove that you were elsewhere, then the man must have -been mistaken. We’ll see the English lady at once.” - -But alas! a telephone call to the Pension Pizzicato informed them that -Mrs. Belmire had left early that morning with Mr. Fetterstein in a high -powered car. Destination unknown. - -“Hum!” said the magistrate, “that makes it bad for you. We are willing -to release you if you can prove an incontestable alibi. We don’t want -any trouble here. But if you cannot we must hand you over to the French -authorities.” - -“Hold on,” said Hugh. “Fetterstein was there too, in the room.” - -“You mean Monsieur Fetterstein, the multi-millionaire American?” - -“Yes, the same.” - -“Ah!” All three looked impressed. - -“If only Monsieur Fetterstein would testify in your favour that would -end the matter as far as you are concerned. He is well known to us and -much esteemed.” - -“But can’t you find him?” - -“That might be hard. There is all France to search. Cannot your friends -here hire a lawyer, get some one to help you,--a detective?...” - -Hugh considered. “Perhaps Monsieur Krantz would help me.” - -They looked surprised; Hugh went on: - -“Will you let him know the position I’m in? If any one can find them he -can.” - -The chief of police nodded. “He’s already interested in the case.” - -The magistrate talked with the others in the Monegascan dialect. -Finally he said: - -“We will see what we can do. In the meantime you must remain here. We -will investigate the affair thoroughly. If you are innocent you need -have no fear of the result. That is all I can say for the present.” - -Hugh was conducted back to his cell, and left to his own reflections. -He sat for a long time in a state verging on stupor. The professor -murdered,--that was the thought that drove all others from his head, -made him forget even his own plight. The professor murdered! But by -whom? There were those who had reason enough to want the old man out -of the way; there were those who would rejoice at his death. But -assassination! No, they would surely draw the line at that. Krantz had -a drastic way of dealing with criminals, but he would never stain his -hands with the blood of honest men. Still, he had admitted he could not -always keep his subordinates in check. - -If, then, it had not been the act of an irresponsible tool of Krantz, -who else had an interest in disposing of the professor? As he lay -through the long day he pondered on this. How slowly the time passed! -He thought sadly that all his friends had gone. MacTaggart, Gimp, Tope, -he was sure they would have hurried to his aid. Margot, too! Why had -she not come? She must know by now where he was. A strange longing to -see her came over him. It would be more comforting to see her than any -one else. - -In the evening to his surprise Krantz arrived. The detective entered -with a smile of cheerful mockery that was rather irritating to a man in -Hugh’s position. - -“Hullo,” he said, laughing as if it was quite funny, “you’ve got -yourself into a nice mess.” - -“Have I?” - -“Looks like it, doesn’t it? Here’s your concierge swearing you were in -the old man’s room at the time the murder was committed. You say that -you were elsewhere, but you cannot produce your witnesses. You name two -people who have left the country, gone goodness knows where. Doesn’t -it strike you that if they should not come back to testify for you, you -will be in a devilish awkward box?” - -“Look here, Krantz, you know I didn’t do it.” - -“Of course, I know it,” said Krantz smilingly. - -“And you know who did do it.” - -The face of Krantz grew very grave. “Hum! I’m not so sure of that.” - -“But what was the motive?” - -“Robbery, of course. Didn’t they tell you that the safe was opened, all -the papers taken? He had better luck than I, whoever he was.” - -“And the system?” - -“Stolen. That’s unfortunate. I wish I knew who he was.” - -“Whoever has it can’t use it,” said Hugh. “It’s in cypher, and there’s -only one man who can decipher it.” - -“Who’s that?” - -“Me.” - -“That’s interesting. Humph! I’ll remember that.” - -Krantz thoughtfully tapped the floor with his cane for a full minute. -Then he rose. - -“I’m going to help you if I can. I’ll try to find your two witnesses so -that you can establish your alibi. But if I get you clear, and should -ever want your aid (in an honourable way, of course) you’ll help me?” - -“Yes.” - -“All right. Don’t worry. Good-night.” - -The visit of Krantz cheered Hugh and he was able to get some sleep. -But the next two days crawled past miserably. Except for the warders -with his food no one came near him; again his fears took shape. What if -Mrs. Belmire and Fetterstein could not be found! Mrs. Belmire probably -hated him and might be glad to revenge herself on him by keeping out of -the way. But no, he thought, she was too good a sport for that. There -was Fetterstein, too. Everything must come right. The time seemed so -long. - -On the fourth day he was again ushered into the bureau. The stout -magistrate was at his desk and beside him sat the chief of police. He -smiled benignly at Hugh. - -“Everything has been explained,” he said, “as far as you are concerned. -You are released. You need have no further fear. We regret exceedingly -we have been obliged to put you to the inconvenience.” - -He bowed with a gesture of dismissal, and Hugh lost no time in leaving -the room. As he emerged from the police station a voice hailed him: - -“Hullo there! Sorry we didn’t know you were in such a hell of a fix or -we’d have got here sooner. They connected with us at Marseilles and -we came right on in the car. We’ve just been and interviewed the old -guy. You bet we soon straightened things out. By the way, allow me to -present you to Mrs. Fetterstein.” - -Hugh stared. Fetterstein with a hearty laugh was indicating a lady -who was arranging her motoring veil. It was Mrs. Belmire. She looked -radiant. - -“Yes, we were married in Marseilles yesterday. Oh, I’m so happy! He’s -really such a nice old thing. You’ve no idea. We’re going to Italy for -our honeymoon. So sorry we didn’t know you were in trouble, or we’d -have simply flown to the rescue. He’s made an affidavit, or something -of the kind. Well, all’s well that ends well. Now we must be getting -on. Come, you precious old dear. Good-bye, Mr. Kildair. Hope we’ll all -meet again.” - -Hugh had no time for congratulations. They sprang into a great -cheese-coloured car, and were gone, leaving him in a state of utter -bewilderment. - -He made his way slowly back to the house he called home. Forebodings -assailed him. The concierge had gone, no doubt dreading awkward -explanations. Looking up Hugh saw that the windows of the professor’s -room were shuttered. So also were his own. To find his room so dark, so -silent, struck a chill to his heart! - -“Margot! Margot!” - -No reply. He pulled aside the grey curtain. Her bed had not been slept -in. He searched everywhere for a note from her. Nothing! Had she -carried out her threat? Had she left him as she had said she would? - -He went slowly down stairs and asked the tenant of the room below for -news. The woman shook her head. - -“The _petite blonde_? No, I know nothing of her. She disappeared the -night of the crime.” - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -TRAPPED - - -1. - -The next three days were more miserable to Hugh than those he had spent -in prison. He missed Margot keenly. He had become so used to her; she -had waited on him so devotedly; had made herself so essential to him in -a hundred little ways. Her sudden desertion of him when he most needed -her filled him with dismay. - -He felt injured, too. He had done a good deal for her. He had always -been a perfect brother, respectful and courteous. If she had been a -real sister, he could not have thought more of her. If he could get -her back he would be even more considerate. He would take her to the -cinema, to tea sometimes, even for a drive occasionally. The trouble -was, if he went about with her, people would jump at wrong conclusions. -Well, in future, let ’em jump. He would buy that cottage and she should -keep house for him. He wondered if it would be possible to legally -adopt her as a sister. Then she could live with him until she found the -man she wanted to marry. Why not? - -Where was she? In Paris, no doubt; taking up the weary struggle once -more. She would surely write soon, then he would go and fetch her. Why -had she left most of her clothes, he wondered? All the things he had -bought her? Perhaps she did not want to take them. The sight of her -abandoned garments made him lonelier than ever. - -She must have left just before the crime. If she had been there, it -might not have happened, she always kept such a watchful eye on the -old man’s door. How shocked she would be. She had been so fond of the -professor, fussing over him, doing things for him. Poor man! So that -was the end of all his grandiose schemes. And the system was useless, -for only he, Hugh, had the key. Well, he was glad it had been stolen. -He had always hated it. There had been something so uncanny about it. -Although it was always successful, it seemed to bring misfortune on all -connected with it. - -He felt the shadow of the tragedy penetrating even to his room. The -_concierge_ who had identified him as the murderer, had discreetly -gone on a vacation; but Hugh had gathered dubious details of what had -happened. About ten o’clock the assassin had mounted to the old man’s -room. The _concierge_ had seen him enter, but had not seen him leave. -About midnight the occupant of the room below, a Casino employé, had -heard groaning; but by the time the door had been opened the old -man was dead. He was lying face downward in a pool of blood with a -knife stab just under the ribs. The safe was open and empty; the room -ransacked. - -That was all Hugh could learn. It was vague and confusing enough. -The Monaco police seemed to be in no hurry to clear up the mystery -and probably would allow it to swell the list of the Principality’s -undiscovered crimes. - -Oh, for a word from Margot! He was growing anxious about her. Then one -day the postman handed him a letter. - - -2. - -It bore the post-mark of Monaco. He tore it open and read with -amazement the following: - - “My dear Cousin: - - “You will no doubt be surprised at this manner of address, but - various things have led me to conclude that the above relationship - exists between us. - - “My uncle was Gilbert Kildair, the well-known artist, who, I find - according to the records of the Municipality of Menton, was duly - married to Lucia Fontana on the nineteenth of October, 1898. - - “After his death she went to England to see if his family would not - do something for her and her son; but they had quarrelled with him - and refused to recognize her as his wife. - - “My mother was a Kildair, and struck by the curious resemblance - between us, I made inquiries with this result. - - “I know that up to now your feelings towards me have been hostile, - but I hope that in view of our newly discovered relationship, you - will let byegones be byegones. After all, blood is thicker than - water, and already I feel an interest in you that exceeds the warmth - of ordinary friendship. - - “I would like you to visit me at my Villa. If it suits you, my car - will await you at ten this evening at the Church of St. Devoté. Do - run you up. Please do not fail me. - - “Your cousin, - - “PAUL VULNING.” - -Hugh had to read this extraordinary letter over three times before he -understood the significance of it. To his amazement succeeded disgust. -He had no desire to be related to Vulning. His dislike for the man was -invincible. There was also his resentment towards his father’s family. -He did not want to have anything to do with them. They had refused to -recognize his mother, and had never shown the slightest interest in -himself. Vulning was typical of them, arrogant, selfish, supercilious. -Why then this sudden interest on his part? Why did Vulning recognize -him now, want to take him up? Hugh was puzzled. - -He decided to go to Vulning’s villa; there could be no harm in that. He -might gain some information about his parents. He did not like Vulning -any the better now that he knew he was a cousin. Still there was no -reason they should not be decently civil to one another. - -He was glad to learn that his father had been a well-known artist. -That accounted for his own modest talent and his joy in playing with -colours. His mother ... his poor mother ... perhaps she was one of the -Fontanas of Monaco, the famous Fontanas. He must go over to Menton and -look up the register. The letter suggested to him new and engrossing -lines of thought. He awaited the evening with impatience. - -At ten o’clock the carmine car was waiting, breathing softly, with -great glowing eyes. The chauffeur touched his hat and Hugh leapt into -the seat beside him. How he loved a car! This was a Hispana Suiza -and the one-eyed chauffeur drove like a demon. He climbed the steep -serpentine hill, nursing his motor with infinite delicacy. The engine -roared triumphantly; the lights of the town fell away; the world -widened gloriously. They rose with a steady, panting urge, toward the -mountains and the stars. - -Soon they were well in the belt of orange groves and the road became -more difficult to follow. The chauffeur was driving at a slow pace, the -way twisting and turning. Hugh could hardly believe that any one lived -in such a remote place until he remembered that Vulning’s villa was the -highest on the hillside. It was ideal for any one who loved seclusion; -the view must be superb. Presently lights swooped towards them, and the -wheels of the car ground in the gravel. They had arrived. - -There is always something mysterious about the approach to a lonely -house at night. The sense of mystery at Vulning’s villa was heightened -by the great garden that encircled it. The vast velvety blackness, with -its suggestions of pines and cyprus, and its rich sullen silence was -almost aggressive. Against the mountain the tall house loomed faintly. -It was terraced on three sides, with a flight of steps leading up to -the front entrance. - -As he mounted them the door opened and a man awaited him. Hugh was -surprised to see it was Bob Bender. Bob smiled in his sly, deprecating -way. - -“How are you, sir? Mr. Vulning’s expecting you. He’s in the library. -Come this way.” - -He led Hugh down a long unlighted hall and halted before a door. The -air was stale and heavy. - -Then the door was opened and Hugh found himself in a large sombre room, -panelled in dark wood; over what appeared to be a bay window hung -heavy crimson curtains. The window was evidently open, as the curtains -trembled slightly. By an oak table in the middle of the room stood -Vulning with a curious smile on his face. - -As the two men faced one another the resemblance between them was more -striking than ever. Both were tall and slim and straight. Both had the -severely regular features of the type that used to be known as the -English governing class. Their hair was of the same light chestnut -and brushed smoothly back. But while Hugh’s eyes were black, those of -Vulning were blue; while Hugh’s face was frank and boyish, that of -Vulning was cynical and blasé. There appeared to be a dozen years of -difference in their ages. - -For a moment there was an awkward pause, then Vulning held out his hand -with a rather exaggerated cordiality. - -“Come on, now, be cousinly. I know you are prejudiced against me; but, -hang it all, I’ve suffered more at your hands than you have at mine. -Let’s forget it, bury the hatchet, shake hands. Come, be a good sport.” - -Hugh complied reluctantly. Cousin or not he could not overcome his -repugnance to this man. - -“You were doubtless surprised,” Vulning went on pleasantly. “I was, -too, when I made the discovery. It was our mutual friend, Mrs. Belmire, -who put me on the track. It is really a very curious coincidence. -However, we won’t dwell on that. I asked you up here to speak about -quite another matter. Won’t you sit down? You’ll find that arm-chair -quite decent.” - -Hugh took it, but Vulning remained standing. - -“Now,” he continued, “I am afraid I am going to surprise you a second -time. To make a long story short, a few days ago there came into my -hands, in a round-about-way, certain documents with which you are -doubtless familiar. It was with regard to these I wanted to see you. -Look....” - -With that Vulning extracted from the inside pocket of his coat a rolled -mass of manuscript, and laid it on the table, keeping his hand on it. - -“You know this, eh?” - -Hugh was speechless. He sat staring at the document. The cover had been -torn away, but he recognized it at once. - -“The system of Professor Durand,” he gasped. - -“Precisely. It’s all here. It was taken from his safe, and has come -into my possession; how--I cannot for the moment explain. Now what I -want of you is this....” - -Vulning bent forward eagerly, his eyes gleaming. - -“You and I alone know of this. I have all the documents that refer to -the system, but I am forced to confess I can do nothing with it. You, -I believe, are the one man who can decipher it. Now I want to propose -a partnership between us. You will translate this manuscript. We will -work the thing together. We will get a hundred million francs out of -the bank. We will share fifty-fifty. That is generous,--too generous. -But then we are cousins. Well, are you on?” - -Hugh sat as if transfixed, staring at the folio. The sudden sight of -it, combined with the impudence of the proposal, quite took away his -breath. Vulning watched him keenly. - -“Takes you some time to realize it. I told you I would surprise you.” - -Hugh started up. “But,” he cried, “these documents do not belong to -you. They were stolen. The professor intended to leave them to me after -his death. I was to publish them. It’s a sacred trust. Here, give them -to me....” - -He made a grab for the documents; but Vulning withdrew them quickly, -and at the same time jerked a small revolver from his pocket. - -“No, you don’t,” he sneered. “Stand back. I’ve got you covered.” - -“You’ve no right to these papers,” Hugh protested hotly. “I’ll go and -tell the police.” - -“You’ll do nothing of the sort. Don’t be a fool. It’s a fair offer I’m -making you. You translate this and we’ll work together. Come!” - -“I refuse.” - -“You refuse. You surprise me. An easy chance to make fifty million -francs. Think of all it means, man,--wealth, luxury, beauty. We are -getting it all legitimately from an institution that deserves no better -treatment. Consider again. You’ll translate this?” - -“I tell you; no!” - -“May I ask why?” - -“Because.... Look here, how did those documents come into your hands?” - -“Never mind. I told you we would not go into that.” - -“You have some connection with this theft. You....” - -Then a light burst on Hugh. The man for whom he had been arrested-- - -“It was you who stole them.... And--Oh, my God! ... you damned villain! -It was you, you who murdered Professor Durand.” - -Vulning’s face went white; he seemed about to collapse. - -“No, I didn’t,” he stammered. “Not that. I swear I didn’t do that. Look -here, I’ll be quite honest. I confess I took the papers. The professor -admitted me in the dusk, thinking it was you. He was working, and the -safe was open. I asked to refer to the system, and he brought it to -me. Then he saw who it was. We struggled, and I gave him a touch of -chloroform, a mere touch, not enough to harm him. When I came away he -was sleeping like a baby. I took the papers, closed the safe and left -very quietly. That’s all I know. He was found later, stabbed to the -heart. I did not do it. I swear to that.” - -Aghast, incapable of action, Hugh stood staring at him. Then as quickly -as he had weakened Vulning recovered himself, and started forward, -tense, tigerish. - -“I’ve told you too much,” he snarled. He covered Hugh with his revolver. - -“You dog! I hate you. You refuse to give up what you know,--well then, -there’s only one thing left,--to make you. Ho! there.” - -At his shout the door was thrown open. Bob Bender and the one-eyed -chauffeur rushed in. - -“Quick. That rope in the corner! Tie him up. Steady there, you young -hound; or I’ll shoot.” - -The chauffeur and Bob Bender threw themselves on Hugh. In spite of -Vulning’s threat, he struggled fiercely. It was not until the chauffeur -had pinioned and tripped him that he fell heavily. The three men held -him down, and trussed him so that he could not move. He lay helpless, -gazing up at them and panting painfully. - -“Ah,” said Vulning, “that was hard. Let me get my breath....” - -He regarded Hugh malevolently. As he lit a cigarette, his eyes were -sinister in their cruelty. - -“He refuses to do what we want, boys. There’s only one thing left, -regrettable though it is; we’ve got to make him. Prop him up against -the wall.” - -They did so. Hugh glared at them. - -“Go on,” he gasped. “You murdered the professor. Murder me too.” - -“I think we’ll get what we want out of you without that,” said Vulning. -“Close that window, Bob. He’ll probably scream. Charlot, you know your -job.” - -What were they going to do? Hugh’s eyes followed them fearfully. He -watched Bob Bender go to the window and remain some moments fumbling -at the latch. He saw the villainous-faced chauffeur leave the room and -return with a pair of powerful pincers in his hand. Meanwhile Paul -Vulning sat down on the edge of the table and inhaled his cigarette. He -was evidently enjoying the scene and proposed to play with his victim -as a cat does with a mouse. Well, Hugh resolved, he would not cry out -whatever happened. At least Vulning should not get that satisfaction -from him. - -The chauffeur caught Hugh’s hand, and, gripping the end of his thumb -with the pincers, began to squeeze. Hugh felt the nail crack. The pain -was excruciating. His breath came quick; his eyes started from his -head. He choked back his groan of agony. Vulning was grinning now, the -grin of a devil. It was that grin that nerved Hugh; not a sound passed -his lips. - -“Harder yet,” hissed Vulning. “Make him scream. Begin on another -finger. Get a good grip. Squeeze! Remember, there are ten of them.” - -He was carried away by a passion of cruelty and trembled with a strange -joy as he watched Hugh’s face. The pain was so atrocious that Hugh -almost fainted. Never mind! They should not make him give in. They -should kill him first. - -“Here, let me do it,” said Vulning. “You’re too easy.” - -Hugh felt his nail bursting under the continued pressure. He closed his -eyes. His breath came in long gasps.... - -Then suddenly in that tense and thrilling silence he heard a voice -ringing out, high, harsh, metallic: - -“_Hands up, all of you._” - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -THE ESCAPE - - -1. - -The three swung round and jerked their hands above their heads. A -very tall man stood in the doorway. He had a spade-shaped beard and a -coppery complexion. His hair of a glossy black was brushed smoothly -back from a long, retreating forehead. His large nose was like the beak -of a bird, and his black eyes glittered. In his outstretched hands he -held two large automatic pistols. Hugh recognized to his amazement the -supposed Brazilian diplomat, Doctor Bergius. - -“Keep your hands up, gentlemen,” said Doctor Bergius warningly; and -with a careless air he lowered his pistols and entered the room. - -At his heels trooped three others. The first, no other than the dashing -Italian Castelli, was in evening dress, but handling his revolver as if -accustomed to its use. The other two were the most blood-thirsty pair -of ruffians Hugh had ever seen. One was huge and hulking, hairy like a -bear. A short beard almost covered his face, and his hair, bristly as -that of a worn scrubbing-brush, came down to meet his bushy eyebrows. -His companion was a very small man, spare, active and hairy as a -monkey, with a lean and withered face and slit eyes that twinkled with -malice. - -“Come on, Golaz,” said Doctor Bergius to the tall ruffian. “You can -look after the old fellow. Golaz, gentlemen, is my knife-man. In fact -he used to be a pig-sticker. He is rather an enthusiastic specialist. -He’d as lief cut your throat as look at you. Wouldn’t you, Golaz?” - -The ursine man grunted in a pleased way. He took out a -murderous-looking knife and going up to Bob Bender, who was standing -very straight, with his arms in the air, made a playful pass with the -knife across Bob’s scraggy throat. A little spot of blood appeared. Bob -shuddered. Then Golaz gave him a little dig in the ribs with the needle -point of the knife. Bob shivered. - -“Golaz is really an artist,” said the doctor. “I have the greatest -difficulty in restraining him. Now let me introduce another of my pets. -Advance, Gamba.” - -The simian man came forward grinning. - -“Gamba’s specialty is strangling,” explained Doctor Bergius. “His work -is slower but not less sure. Once let him get those hairy hands of his -around your throat, and you’ll have to kill him to make him let go. You -love to get your fingers round a windpipe, don’t you, Gamba?” - -Gamba grinned broadly, clutching and gripping with his hands in a -suggestive manner. - -“All right, Gamba, you can account for the chauffeur. As for you, -Castelli, I leave you the Englishman. Now that these preliminaries are -all settled I can take a smoke.” - -With a sigh of satisfaction Doctor Bergius sank down in the big -arm-chair and lit a cigarette. - -“Ah,” he sighed again, “what would life be without the soothing weed? -You can have women and wine, Castelli; I would not exchange them both -for nicotine. This is a comfortable den, Vulning; I feel quite at home -already. Ha! I see you have the papers there. Castelli, hand them to -me.” - -The Italian took the system from Vulning’s hand and gave it to the -doctor. - -“Thank you. I imagine it’s all here. Also ...” he turned to Hugh, “it’s -translator. Excellent. You know, Vulning, you’ve given me a lot of -trouble. We were both on the same errand, only you went out by the door -just as I came in by the window. What a pity you closed that safe. How -was I to know it was empty? There I was struggling to open it, when the -old man woke up. Golaz had to take his case in hand. The methods of -Golaz are not refined but they are effective. Well, now to business.” - -Doctor Bergius turned over the leaves of the system. “Here it is in my -hands at last, the key that opens the golden gates of wealth. I say, -Vulning, I’m sorry for you. You worked hard for this. I’m not such a -bad chap after all. I’m going to take you in with us. You and Castelli -can be on the same footing. The others can rank with Golaz and Gamba. -Do you accept?” - -Vulning nodded sullenly; the other two with alacrity. - -“Good. You may lower your hands. And now let us come to this young man -you have so beautifully bound, and I fear, so sadly maltreated. Your -methods are primitive. I think I can show you a better way to make him -listen to reason. Golaz, bring in the girl.” - -Hugh started. He had fallen forward; but, by turning his head -painfully, he could follow the movements of Golaz. He saw the big -cut-throat disappear into the hallway. He heard a low moan and it -seemed his heart forgot to beat. With straining eyes he watched the -doorway. Yes, his worst fears were realized. Golaz entered with Margot -in his arms. Her hands and feet were tied; her eyes closed, her -hair streaming to the floor. She did not seem conscious of what was -happening. - -“Put her down,” said Doctor Bergius. “And now suppose we begin by -trying this instrument of torture on those rosy little nails. It may be -more effective with our obstinate friend here. Golaz and Gamba, hold -her. Castelli, you can wield the pincers.” - -But Castelli hung back. “No, Master,” he said with a shrug, “I have no -stomach for that. A man, yes! A woman, well....” - -“All right, Castelli. I know your softness of heart where the weaker -sex is concerned. Vulning, to you will fall the honour.” - -Again Paul Vulning took up the big pincers, and the points closed over -the girl’s thumb-nail. With a piercing scream she opened her eyes. - -“Hear that?” said Doctor Bergius to Hugh. “That’s only a beginning. If -necessary we’ll crack her ten little nails like hazel nuts. Then if you -don’t do what we want, I’ll hand her over to Golaz and Gamba to work -their will on her. You know what that means. On the other hand if you -consent, if you tell us the meaning of all this, you will both be well -treated. You will perhaps be kept in close confinement for a few weeks, -but after that you will be released. By then I hope we shall be ready -to depart with the spoil. Shall we begin again on the girl?” - -Hugh shook his head. His face was stamped with horror. “No, no,” he -cried hoarsely. “I’ll do anything you want.” - -“That’s a sensible lad. Seat him at the table and release his right -arm. Vulning, have the goodness to fetch me pen, ink and paper.” - -Vulning brought them from a little card table that stood in front of -the bay window. Doctor Bergius rose and bent over Hugh. - -“Now,” he said in his harsh metallic voice, “what we want you to do -is quite simple. You will put on that paper all the symbols in those -documents with their meanings. After that we will shut you up while -I make the translation. If you forget anything and give me needless -trouble, I shall have to deal severely with you. Also I will hold you -responsible for the subsequent working of the system. So you see I want -you to take your task very seriously. Now, go ahead.” - -Hugh was placed facing the curtained window. He took up the pen and -began to write. Doctor Bergius paced up and down. Every now and then he -would look at the document in his hand and then at the symbols Hugh was -writing. The page was soon covered with them. Hugh strained his memory. -Had he forgotten anything? Were they complete? - -As he paused for a moment, his brows pursed in thought, the eyes of all -were fixed on him. The doctor stood with his back to the bay window, -and as he struck a match to light a fresh cigarette, he laid the -precious documents down on the little card table. Then in the tense -silence the striking of the match startled Hugh, and he glanced up.... -What was it he was seeing?... _Behind the doctor a long sinewy hand was -passing between the crimson curtains. It reached towards the little -card table; it clutched the bundle of papers; it disappeared. But in -that swift moment Hugh saw that the little finger of the hand was -missing._ - - -2. - -The silence was almost painful. Hugh wondered how long it would last. -Suddenly Paul Vulning pointed to the empty table with a cry. - -“The system! It has vanished.” - -Swift as a flash Doctor Bergius looked down. Then he rushed to the -window. - -“Quick,” he shouted, “I saw some one leap from the terrace. All of you -in pursuit. We must recover it at all cost.” - -He dashed out, Vulning, Castelli and the three others following him. -From the darkness Hugh heard shots and much shouting. - -“Scatter. Search the garden. Fire only if you’re sure.” - -They had all gone. He was alone with Margot. He tried to see her, to go -to her. He twisted around and tumbled from his chair. - -Could he believe his ears? As he lay face down he heard a voice address -him. - -“Quick, sir. I’m goin’ to cut the ropes.” - -It was old Bob Bender. He cut and slashed to such good purpose that in -a moment Hugh and Margot were both free. - -“There’s not a moment to lose,” whispered Bob. “They’re hunting out -in front but they may return any minute. You must escape by the back. -Come, I’ll show you the way. Buck up, missy, you’ve got to make an -effort.” - -Hugh supported the girl, and Bob piloted them along the dark hallway. -At the foot of a flight of stairs Bob opened a door. The pure air of -the mountain caressed their faces. - -“Take to the woods,” whispered Bob. “Climb high, make a wide circle. -I’ll slip back and get that paper you wrote. Then I’ll join them in the -hunt. Good luck to you. Krantz is a wonder. The Casino is saved.” - - -3. - -Taking the girl’s hand Hugh led her through the darkness, down a narrow -flight of stone steps, and along a steep pathway amid the shrubbery. He -heard sounds of the pursuit from the other side of the house and once -the sharp crack of a revolver. Once too, some one came panting along -the pathway towards them. He had scarcely time to pull Margot into the -deep shadow of the bushes before a burly form pounded past. Trembling -and terrified the girl clung to him until the footsteps were drowned in -silence. - -Once more he dragged her on. At the end of the pathway, they came to -a small door set in the high wall, secured by a rusted bolt that at -first resisted all his efforts. Suddenly it shot back, and they found -themselves on the mountain side. - -From the door a steep trail led to higher altitudes, and up this he -hurried her. Rocks tripped them, and thorny bushes clutched at them, -but spurred by fear they stumbled on. Even when the tiny donkey-path -faded out and they found themselves on the raw and ragged flanks of the -mountain, they continued to climb and climb. - -Several times he thought Margot was going to give out, but a few words -from him inspired her with a new courage. In the last of these pauses -he listened acutely. The silence was absolute. They must be safe by -now. They had been climbing for nearly an hour. He urged her to make -one more effort, but she was unequal to it and entirely collapsed. - -Lifting her in his arms he carried her to where a huge overhanging -boulder formed a shallow shelter and laid her down. Resting her head on -his knee, he covered her with his coat. Then with his back to the rock -he waited for the daylight. - -With the first brightening of the dove-grey sky he saw that they had -climbed further than he had reckoned. They were on the slope beneath -the Tete-du-Chien; above them towered the great bluff, its beetling -front steel grey, stained with cinnamon, and around them, as if the -greater gods had pelted it in sport, huge boulders heaped in fantastic -confusion. Below them the olive groves were saturnine; the roofs of the -Condamine a sullen crimson, and the sea’s immense tranquillity painted -with a pale fire. - -He looked down at the white face, pillowed on shining hair. Poor girl! -How desperately exhausted she must be. Her sleep had been troubled by -fits of trembling; and dry nervous sobs had awakened her half a dozen -times. He had soothed her with assurances of safety. He aroused her -gently and pointed to the brightening sky. - -“Look!” - -“But you are chilled through,” she said. “You are shivering. You should -not have given me your coat.” - -They rose stiffly, their faces haggard in the dawn. Slowly and -painfully they descended the mountain. - -“What happened,” he asked, “that night?...” - -“I don’t know. I never understood. It was very late; I heard a noise -in the professor’s room and tried his door; it opened. All was dark. -There was a curious smell. Again I heard a noise. I was afraid he was -ill. I hurried to his assistance. Some one caught me from behind, and a -hand covered my mouth. I struggled, but I had no power. They bound and -gagged me. Just as we were going away one of them flashed an electric -torch on the floor. I saw the professor lying face downward. It was -horrible....” - -“Yes, I know. They killed the poor old man. But what after that?” - -“A very strong man carried me in his arms; we descended from the window -by a rope ladder. Below they had a closed-in car. We went up among the -mountains, before we stopped at a lonely house. They lifted me down, -and carried me to a room. I was locked in, a prisoner. Oh, they treated -me well enough. There was a peasant woman who brought me my food and -was kind to me. But the time was long, for I was terrified, and so -anxious about you. I thought I should go mad. Then last night they put -me in the car again, and brought me down. You know the rest.” - -“What shall we do now? I suppose we had better go back to our room.” - -She shook her head. “Nothing can make me spend another night there. The -very idea horrifies me. No, I want to go far away from here, very far. -If you don’t mind, I will get my things, stay at a hotel to-night, and -to-morrow morning leave for Paris.” - -“I quite understand. But ... how about that cottage at Villefranche? -Won’t you come there with me?” - -Again she shook her head. “No, not now....” - -“Once you wanted to.” - -“Once, yes. Once I had a dream.... That’s finished now. I’ve been a -foolish girl. I did lots of thinking when I was alone up there, and I -see my way clear. It’s a lonely way but perhaps I’ll have my share of -happiness. Yes, I’d better go.” - -He felt that she was right, and did not try to dissuade her. - -“At any rate,” he said, “you’ll let me lend you that money, the two -thousand we had such a fuss over?” - -“Yes, I’ll borrow it gladly, and I’ll pay you back. I bless you for all -you’ve done for me....” - -Next morning he saw her off at the station. As she leaned from the -window of a third class carriage she tried hard to keep back her -tears. He remembered their arrival at this same station, and how he -had followed her. He would miss her painfully. A last handclasp and -the train bore her away. A loneliness came over him that was almost a -heartache. - -“That ends another chapter,” he said to himself. “Perhaps I’ll never -see her again. Ah! little girl, may the gods bless you and make you -happy.” - -And with that he went sadly away. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - -AN INTERLUDE - - -1. - -About the end of May he bought the cottage near Villefranche. It had -pinkish walls that dripped roses and a long generous garden dropping to -the beach. There he had a little boat pulled up on the shingle and lay -for long hours in its shadow, watching the dreamy glimmer of the sea, -and listening to the musical plash of the waves. The velvet monotony of -sea and sky tranquilized his spirit. - -He used to rise at four every morning, and work in his garden through -the cool hours; then go for a swim in the bay, floating lazily on the -milk-warm water, blinking at the brightness of the sun. In the evenings -he would fish from his boat, pulling softly home in the starlight. He -became soaked with sunshine, as brown as any of his peasant neighbours, -and just as carelessly happy. He learned to look on life with quiet -eyes. - -It was pleasant to think that he could go on like this for twenty -years. He needed so little; his garden supplied him with fruit and -vegetables, the sea with fish. By selling some of his produce and -keeping chickens and rabbits, he could make the place self-supporting. -He had infinite time to dream and paint. If he painted patiently and -sincerely during twenty years surely he could achieve something. - -This was the future he sketched out for himself. One thing was -lacking; he missed Margot. If only she were there, it seemed to him his -happiness would be complete. - -But she was back at work with Folette. She had taken her old room -again, the little mansard room, overlooking the Boulevard Montparnasse. -She wrote to him quite often, and always that she was very happy. - -Often as he lingered in his garden, he would look up and imagine her -standing in the doorway of the cottage in a frame of roses. She seemed -to complete the picture so perfectly. What a pity she was not there. -Well, one can’t have everything. True, he might ask her to marry him. -But the idea of marriage dismayed him; it seemed so irrevocable. -Romance ended there, he told himself. He was only twenty-three and -a lifetime is long to spend with one woman. An early marriage is a -mistake, so every one said. He missed her companionship awfully, but -there! ... no doubt in time he would get used to the loss of her! - - -2. - -It was curious how far away Monte Carlo seemed. Unfamiliar mountains -heaved up behind him; another topaz hoop separated him from the gloomy -rock and the glittering point. Sometimes he would sail his little -boat far out, and from the shadow of his sail, watch the poisoned -paradise. It seemed to him like a dream picture, rising in terraced -beauty from the azure of the sea. The Casino glittered like a heap -of jewels, and the mountains brooded in violet abstraction. All was -loveliness,--creamy beach and cradled harbour, palms and olive groves, -snowy villas gleaming in green gardens, and shining slopes of pine. He -gazed at it with rapture,--then shuddered at the thought of all that -lay behind. - -For Monte Carlo may be all things to all men, the most adorable spot -in the world or the most hateful. And to him, filled with the moral -strength that is born of peace, the place was increasingly detestable. -Its beauty was the fatal beauty of a glorious courtesan, its people -parasites living on the folly and depravity of mankind. From prince to -page-boy they were dependent on that great temple of chance into which -poured streams of gold from all the world. Its white range of palaces -were to him the symbol of all that was weak and wanton in human nature. - -As he sat in the shadow of his sail he recalled them all so plainly, -the spendthrift and the starveling, the derelict and the degenerate, -swirling round in the eternal circle of that greater wheel which -symbolizes the whole, unable to extricate themselves, being drawn -nearer and nearer to that vortex which is ruin. - -He detested it all now and saw it with other eyes. He had escaped its -lures. Never again would he set foot in its polluted halls. - -Then one day a shadow fell across his path and looking up he saw Bob -Bender. - - -3. - -Bob, rusty and creaky as ever, looked singularly out of place in his -radiant garden. - -“Excuse me, sir,” he said, rubbing his hands together with a rasping -sound, “for interruptin’ your horticulturous provocations.” - -“Not at all. Glad to see you.” - -“Thank you, sir. You’ve got a tidy sorto’ place ’ere. Now if I was you -I’d bank up that celery a little more, an’ them artichokes want cuttin’ -back. Awful things artichokes is to grow on you, if you gives ’em a -chance.” - -“What do you know about gardening?” - -“Most all there is to know, I expect, considerin’ that I was once in -that way myself. Indeed I ’opes some day, if ever I can scrape up -enough money, to buy a little place I know out ’Ampstead way. But -there, I didn’t come ’ere to talk of gardens; I came over on quite -another matter. Krantz sent me.” - -“Krantz!” - -“Yes. You see that Doctor Bergius ’as got something up ’is sleeve. -We can’t quite make ’im out. ’E’s a great one, ’e is. There ain’t a -greater international crook on the Continent to-day. ’E was ragin’ mad -because Krantz got the system away from ’im, and now ’e swears ’e’ll -get even, and do the Casino one in the eye.” - -“That reminds me,” said Hugh. “What happened that night after we got -away?” - -“Oh, they thought you’d got at a knife with your free ’and and cut -the ropes. I joined the chase and ’eaded ’em in the wrong direction. -You see my bein’ with Vulning was an idea of Krantz’s. He suspected -that Vulning ’ad the papers and got me to approach ’im. I pretended -I’d fallen out with Krantz; and after a bit Vulning told me ’e ’ad the -papers. It was me suggested ’e get you to translate ’em. Krantz was to -come to your rescue. But we didn’t bargain on the other gang. However, -it came off all right.” - -“What do you want of me now?” - -“Well, you see, I’m no longer in the confidence of that crowd. The -doctor distrusted me from the first. There was the business of the -window for one thing. Why didn’t I ’appen to fasten it properly? Anyhow -they won’t ’ave anything to do with me now; and I can’t get to the -bottom of the game they are playin’. But I do know they are ’avin’ an -important meetin’ to-morrow at Vulning’s villa. It’s at two o’clock. -There will only be Vulning and the doctor and Castelli. Now we were -thinkin’ if we could get Vulning out of the way, and you could take his -place....” - -“What!” - -“It’s really very simple, sir. You see you’re so extraordinary like -’im any way. Just a touch of make-up and you’d be perfect. We’ll give -you a key to the villa and you can change into some of ’is clothes and -receive the other two in the library. You can close the curtains and -darken the room. Then you’ll deceive them, ’ear their plans and let us -know.” - -“But I’m risking my life.... If these fellows suspect, they’ll shoot me -like a dog.” - -“It’s true there’s a lot of risk; but Krantz says ’e’ll pay you ten -thousand francs if you get the information ’e wants.” - -“I’d rather not. I swore I’d never set foot in the Principality again.” - -“Krantz says that, if ever ’e asked a favour of you, you promised you’d -do it.” - -“That’s true.... Well, tell Krantz ... I’ll do it.” - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - -THE PLOT - - - “Cher Comerade: - - There is something which weighs on me and of which I have been trying - to write to you since several days. - - You have heard me speak of Florent Garnier. Twice has he asked me in - _marriage_, and a week ago he sought me out and demand me for the - third time. - - He is more prosperous than ever. He has a grand auto, and a villa - near the forest of St. Germain. On Sunday with Jeanne we drive out to - see it, and it is truly charming. Only he says he is so lonely there - all by himself.... - - What am I to do? I think I am the most unhappy girl in all Paris. It - is a great chance for me, and Madame Folette, Jeanne and the girls - tell me I am crazy to refuse. Which is quite true because I am all - alone in the life.... - - I do not ask your advice because I know you will tell me to take him - too, and I don’t like when you do that. All the same I thing you are - right, and this time it is for the best that I shall tell him.... - _Yes._ - - I hope you are well, and happy, and think of you very, very often. - - Votre petite soeur adoptée, - - MARGOT. - - Florent wishes we marry on the seventeenth September so that in that - day you must think of me and wish me happiness.” - -It was quarter past one when Hugh received this letter; it was half -past when he jumped into the carmine car and told the chauffeur to -drive him to Vulning’s villa. - -“Keep to the blind side of that chap and he’ll never know you,” Bob -Bender had said. “What with Vulning’s coat and hat and them yellow -glasses he’s wearin’ lately any one would take you for his twin -brother. The chauffeur’s had one or two drinks too much anyway,--we’ve -seen to that. ’E’ll ’ave all ’is time taken up lookin’ after ’is car.” - -“And Vulning?” - -“We’ve got ’im safe. You see there’s a little girl he’s been after for -some time. Mrs. Emslie’s daughter wot committed suicide. She’s workin’ -as a nurse girl; but she won’t ’ave anything to do with ’im. Well, we -got ’er to send ’im a note sayin’ she’d meet ’im at one o’clock in a -room in a certain ’otel that’s a bit out of the way. ’E came all right; -and, while he waited for her, we simply locked ’im in. ’E’s there now, -’ammerin’ at the door and ragin’ like a madman. We won’t let ’im out -till you get back.” - -“I’m feeling nervous.” - -“Don’t be afraid. With that touch of make-up you’re as like ’im as two -peas. You’ll fool ’em all right. ’Ere’s a key to the front door. Now -run and jump into the car as if you were in a ’urry. Take this. It will -steady you.” - -Hugh took the small flask of brandy that Bender handed to him, walked -quickly to the car and leaped in. The chauffeur did not even look at -him. He touched the button that started the motor, moved into gear and -the car shot forward. - -As Hugh left the town below him his uneasiness increased. His -excitement seemed to mount with the mounting road, his heart pounded -like the straining motor of the car that bore him on. He took a pull at -the brandy flask, and felt better. - -They were now among the olive trees and still climbing. A sleepy quiet -brooded around them. When they drew near the solitary house Hugh wanted -to leap out and make for safety, but it was too late to draw back. - -As the chauffeur drove the car around to the garage, Hugh mounted the -front steps and opened the door. A rush of stale air met him. The -hallway was dark and dirty. Vulning did not seem to have a caretaker -and probably only slept there once in a while. The rooms leading off -the hall were shuttered and dark. Hugh went into the library, threw -back the shutters and unclasped the window. The light leaped in like -a wild thing. He looked carefully out of the window. It gave on the -terrace with a balustrade about three feet high. Below was the road -leading to the garage, and beyond that dense shrubbery. He closed the -window without clasping it, then drew the heavy curtains, plunging the -room in mysterious gloom. - -Once more he went out into the unlighted hall. How quiet and dark the -house was! His footsteps awakened echoes everywhere. He went upstairs -to where a door, slightly open, showed a chink of light. It appeared to -be Vulning’s bedroom. The bed was unmade, the room untidy. He took off -his overcoat and drew on a dressing-gown he found lying over a chair. -On the tiny table at the head of the bed was a small automatic pistol. -Seeing that it was loaded, he put it into his pocket. - -He felt horribly “funky,” but a glance in the mirror reassured him. -His sunburnt skin had been made up to resemble Vulning’s sallow -one; little crowsfeet were round his eyes, and cynical lines about -his mouth. His hair was parted in the middle and brushed back like -Vulning’s. When he put on Vulning’s yellow glasses it would have taken -a very clever man indeed to detect the substitution. If only his -confounded nervousness would not give him away! He wound a silk muffler -around his neck, noting as he did so how his hands trembled. That would -never do! He took another big swig at the brandy flask. Courage glowed -in him, even to the point of recklessness. He was ready to go down and -face them. - -As he descended the stairway somewhat unsteadily he saw that his guests -were already awaiting him. How quietly they had come in! He had not -heard them. Golaz and Gamba were in the hall and glowered at him with -fierce and restless eyes as he passed. In the darkened library Castelli -and the doctor were talking in low tones, bending over the table on -which lay a large plan. They turned as he entered. - -Hugh shivered as he shook the large hairy hand of Doctor Bergius. How -he hated this man. Those deep set eyes were profound with cruelty; that -dense blue-black beard concealed a face that might be that of a fiend -incarnate; his large fleshy lips of a bright unnatural red, set in that -black beard, gave a singularly repulsive impression. When he smiled it -was with a grin, callous, relentless, orientally cruel. - -He smiled now, and Hugh was glad of his yellow goggles. They concealed -the fact that his eyes were black instead of blue. He was glad, too, -of the drawn heavy curtain. It seemed to him that even with all his -precautions Doctor Bergius was regarding him with a curious fixity. - -“Ah, young man,” he said in his metallic voice, “you have kept us -waiting. There is so much to be done and we have so little time. -Castelli, close that door.” - -Hugh nodded sullenly. He dared not trust himself to speak. Once again -Doctor Bergius regarded him curiously. He did not seem satisfied. He -went up to Hugh and stared at him very hard. Hugh’s heart began to -thump. - -“I am discovered,” he thought, and his hand went to his pistol. - -But the Doctor turned away with an expression of contempt. “Pah!” he -said. “You’ve been drinking again. I hope you’re not off on one of your -bouts.” - -Hugh shook his head. He affected a certain surly stupidity. “No, no, -doctor,” he said thickly, “only a touch of brandy. Got sore throat. -Caught a chill on the golf course. Felt shaky. Took it to steady me, -clear my head.” - -“Well, it must be the last until to-morrow evening. After that you can -go to the devil your own way. Promise me that now,--the last.” - -Hugh nodded sulkily. - -“That is understood. Your part in the programme is a small one, but -important. You must have all your wits about you. If you fail you may -throw out the whole plan.” - -“All right. I’ll keep off the stuff.” - -“Good. Now to business. Look!... Here’s a plan of the Casino.” - -Hugh showed an eager interest. In order to see it better he edged round -to the side of the table nearest the window. He had Doctor Bergius on -his right, on his left Castelli. The plan showed the entire ground -floor of the Casino, the different rooms, the entrances, the windows, -even the tables. Here and there were traced lines and figures in red, -with names in Italian. - -“You already have an idea,” went on Doctor Bergius, “of what the great -plan is. It is something unheard of, unthought of, magnificent in its -audacity. Only a man of genius could have imagined it, perfected it -in all its detail. Only one man living could have done it. That man -is myself. It is what the Americans call a ‘hold-up.’ _We propose to -hold-up the Casino._” - -Here the doctor paused to give effect to his words, then continued: - -“To do that, you realize, is a project of the greatest gravity. But I -have arranged everything; and it should go like clockwork. In the first -place we need lots of men. I have a band of about sixty, all desperate -characters, recruited from the slums of Genoa. They are supposed to be -a touring athletic club, all wear the same caps and ties. You may have -noticed some of them already. They have been here for some days and -have visited the Casino in the morning when it is open to all visitors. -Besides this we have secured admission cards for about a score of them. -They know the ground. Every man has his part and is drilled in it. -Each is of proved and desperate courage, will carry two six-chambered -revolvers, and know how to use them. Ah, my friend, it is a marvellous -conception. You should have been present at our rehearsals.” - -“What is my part?” - -“Your part, my dear Vulning, is very simple. We have got a day ticket -for you in the name of a Swedish gentleman. You will wear a heavy -blonde beard and be completely disguised. This is for your sake. You -see with what consideration we treat you. At six o’clock in the -evening you will enter the Casino. That is the hour of affluence when -all the tables are working, and the visitors have left their money -behind. There should be several million francs in sight.” - -Here the doctor paused and rubbed his hands crisply. - -“But before going any further, I will explain my ideas as to the -division of the spoil. Each of our men has been promised five thousand -francs. For that they would risk their lives a dozen times. Golaz and -Gamba are to have a hundred thousand francs each. You and Castelli will -have five hundred thousand. I will be modestly contented with whatever -is left. Is that understood?” - -Castelli nodded. Hugh followed suit. - -“Agreed. Now, Vulning, for your _rôle_! You enter the Casino, I say, -at six o’clock precisely, disguised as a Swede. You go straight to the -table next to the refreshment room. It has been arranged that a man -will rise and give you a place. You will sit for a few minutes, then -suddenly, ...” the doctor paused, and took from his pocket a revolver, -“you will rise to your feet. You will take this from your pocket, and, -holding it to your head, you will fire.... Ah! my friend Vulning, don’t -start. It will only be loaded with a blank cartridge. It will do you -no harm. Then having fired you will collapse and slip under the table. -That’s all you have to do for five hundred thousand francs. Easy, isn’t -it?” - -“And what happens then?” - -“What happens then?...” Doctor Bergius raised both hands exultantly. -“Ha! I will tell you. That is the signal. Every one in the rooms -will hear the shot and rush to the table. You know them. They will -crowd around and push and jostle. They will want to get a glimpse -of the suicide. There will be a mob. The attendants will be making -frantic efforts to get out the body. Every one’s attention will be -distracted.... Then it is that things will _begin_ to happen.” - -Doctor Bergius grew more and more impressive. - -“We will have a dozen of our own men in the small room with the Opium -Dream on the ceiling. Behold! it will be empty but for them. Every -one else will have run to see the suicide. Only the croupiers will -have remained at their posts. Everything will be easy. Six of our men -will hold up the croupiers while the others throw open the windows. If -you remember, there are four windows giving on the terrace near the -band-stand. My men will be waiting down below. They will swarm up. To -protect them I will have a cordon of men running down to the sea. There -I will have waiting also two very fast steam launches.” - -The doctor seemed to see it all. He spoke as a man inspired. - -“After that it will be easy. A rush, a great drive. We will sweep them -all before us. They will be like frightened sheep. Think of it! There -will be forty of us all armed to the teeth. Can’t you see them flying -before us? We will herd them all into the refreshment room. Castelli -with twenty men will control the main rooms; Golaz with ten men will -take the long room that gives on the terrace; Gamba with another ten -will attend to the _salon privé_. We will shoot down any one that shows -the least sign of resistance. There will be panic, confusion, terror. -We will pen the croupiers in corners at the revolver’s point. Castelli, -Golaz and Gamba will run to the tables and scoop the big notes into -bags. We only want the big bills.” - -“Hold on!” said Hugh. “What about the mechanism that automatically -locks the coffers?” - -“We’ve seen to that. An electrician in our pay has put it out of -action. Everything has been thought of. In five minutes it will all -be over. We will then gather in a band under the big dome, fire a -final volley over the heads of the crowd and beat a retreat. Then we -will drop from the windows, run to the beach, tumble into the waiting -launches and ho! for Italy. It will all be over before any one realizes -what has happened. Magnificent, isn’t it?” - -“And what about me?” - -“Ah, my dear Monsieur Vulning, do not worry about your precious self. -Yours is the easiest part to play. You will, of course, beat a retreat -with us. We will put you ashore at St. Remo if you wish. You can then -remove your disguise and return here. No one will even suspect you....” -Again Doctor Bergius looked at him curiously. - -“I believe you are a coward, Vulning. Look here, Castelli will go -through your part just to show you. I have here some blank cartridges. -See! I charge the revolver. Now, Castelli....” - -Castelli stood up by the table. He held the revolver about three feet -from his head and fired. Then he dropped to the floor and remained -there, grinning up at Hugh. - -“_Voila_,” said the doctor. “That’s all. No risk for you. You lie -snug under the table and watch events. Easy, isn’t it? Ah, the whole -conception is superb, the work of a man of genius.... _Listen!_...” The -doctor stopped suddenly, grew tense, alert. “What’s that? Who’s out -there with Golaz and Gamba?” - -Hugh, too, was listening. He heard excited voices and steps coming -down the hall. He trembled and as he reached out for support his hand -touched an inkwell made out of the fuse of an old German shell. The -next instant the door was flung violently open and a man entered. - -It was Paul Vulning. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - -THE HOLD-UP - - -1. - -“Hold him! Hold the impostor!” cried Vulning. - -Hugh dashed the brass inkwell at the head of Doctor Bergius. The doctor -collapsed over the table. Castelli, who was still on the floor in a -crouching position, clutched at Hugh’s leg. Hugh launched a vicious -kick and caught him on the jaw. With one bound, he was behind the -crimson curtains, and out on the terrace. He leaped the balustrade and -plunged into the shrubbery. Madly he tore on. About fifty yards away -was a high wall. He leaped at it desperately. His hands just clutched -the coping, and he hung, slipping and scraping, feeling for a foothold. -Then his toe caught in a tiny projection, and in another moment he had -drawn himself up. - -_Spat! Spat!_ went the plaster of the wall.... They were firing at him -as they ran. Golaz and Gamba came plunging through the bushes. They -were appallingly near. The top of the wall was covered with bits of -broken glass that caught his dressing-gown, as he leaped down on the -other side. As he tried to wrench it free, a brown hand reached over -and gripped it. With a twist and a turn, Hugh wriggled out of it. His -pistol fell from the pocket. He snatched it up and rushed on. - -A few yards further he darted behind an ancient olive tree and looked -back. Gamba was already astride of the wall. Hugh fired twice and he -saw the man drop back. Then he ran blindly on, taking the terraces of -olive trees in reckless leaps, often landing on his knees. At length -he came out on the mountain side amid boulders and prickly scrub. He -dodged among the rocks, and cowered behind the bushes. He was torn and -bleeding in a dozen places, and his clothes were in shreds. Presently -he sank exhausted. - -For over an hour he lay without moving. Everything was quiet; they had -evidently given up the pursuit. He rose and by a round-about route he -made his way back to the Casino. - -Bob Bender was waiting for him on the steps. He looked anxious and -excited. He dragged Hugh through a side door. - -“Quick! tell me what’s happened. You’re in a hell of a state. We were -afraid they’d got you.” - -“Didn’t you know?... Vulning has escaped.” - -“No!” - -“Yes, he arrived at an awkward moment for me. I’ve had to jolly well -risk my life for your people.” - -“Vulning must have got out by the window. It was over thirty feet from -the ground. We never thought of guarding that. He must have made a -desperate effort.... Well, did you discover anything?” - -“All.” - -“The devil! Quick! Tell me. How pleased the chief will be!” - -“There’s a hold-up of the Casino planned for to-morrow night.” - -“A hold-up!” - -“Yes. They’ve got over sixty gunmen. Vulning’s to give the signal by -shooting himself with a blank cartridge. The men are to swarm up by -the windows of the small room facing the band-stand. They have two fast -steam launches to make their getaway in.” - -“It was planned for to-morrow at six, you say?” - -“To-morrow at six.” - -“They’ll never try it now. We’ve got them beaten, thanks to you. It has -taken you a long time to get here.” - -“Over two hours.” - -“More. Look, it’s nearly six now.” - -“I had to make a big detour to avoid them.” - -“Well, there’s no time to lose. They may try to-morrow after all; we -must be prepared. Oh, won’t the chief be pleased! We must try to find -him. He’s in the Casino somewhere. He has many disguises. Come....” Bob -peered everywhere, but could see no sign of Krantz. - -“Let’s look at the windows they mean to swarm up,” suggested Bob. The -two men pulled aside the yellow blinds and looked down. The ledge was -broad and the height not great. - -“Easy enough,” commented Bob. “By getting into the band-stand a dozen -men could command the whole terrace. The plan’s been well considered, -but we’ll fix it so as it can never be carried out. We’ve got you -beaten, Mister Bergius.... God! What’s that?” - -Hugh looked to where Bob was pointing. On the calm sea, lying close in, -were two long steam launches. They manœuvred up and down, until they -were hidden by the terrace. - -“Did you see them, or did I dream?” - -“No, it’s them ... _them_!” - -A sudden fear seized Bob Bender. He looked up at the clock. - -“Just on the stroke of six. If only Krantz were here. I wonder....” - -The two men stared at one another, and even as they stared, a sudden -shot rang out. - -Bob Bender gripped Hugh by the arm and cried hoarsely: “Hear that! the -signal! _They’ve advanced the time by twenty-four hours. If I’m not -mistaken the ‘hold-up’ is now on._” - - -2. - -They turned swiftly. The people at the table had left their places, -and grabbing their stakes, were running in the direction of the sound. -Only the croupiers sat still. These looked at one another in a rather -uncomfortable way. - -“Come,” said Hugh, “I want to see if it’s really Vulning.” - -He ran after the others. The crowd was so dense, it was impossible to -get near the victim. Hugh saw the lackeys struggling to extricate a -limp form from under the table. The faces of the crowd wore a mixture -of curiosity and awe; they pushed and jostled shamelessly, to get a -glimpse of the suicide. The inspector, the floor director and the -director of games hurried to the scene. It had been a long time since a -suicide had taken place at the tables. It would make a nasty scandal. - -“_C’est tres embetant_,” Hugh heard one of them say. He saw a lackey -arrive with a black sheet to cover the corpse. Then a woman pushed her -way out of the crowd; she was in a hysterical state. - -“I saw him do it,” she cried. “I was sitting beside him. It was a big -blonde man, a Swede, I think.” - -“Look!” said Hugh, suddenly gripping Bob’s arm. “It’s true. There they -come.” Almost simultaneously there were a dozen revolver shots, and a -bunch of croupiers tumbled from the smaller salon, their hands in the -air, their faces sick with fear. - -“This is no place for me,” said Bob Bender. “They’ll shoot me at sight. -I’m willing to work for the Casino, but I’m not willing to lose an inch -of my skin for them.” - -Bob disappeared and not a moment too soon. Hell seemed to have broken -loose. With a rush and a roar a score of men burst from the small -salon. They whooped as they ran, brandishing revolvers and firing in -the air. Their swarthy faces were lit by the savage joy of combat. -They drove every one before them; if a croupier showed a sign of -resisting he was felled with the butt of a heavy revolver. But few of -the croupiers resisted; most of them ran like rabbits, diving under the -tables. - -All was pandemonium. Women shrieked and fainted; there was a general -struggle to get to the doors. Hugh could not move; he was wedged in a -mob of players who fought and roared and cursed, as they backed away -from the bandits. - -Then in the midst of the mad tumult, hushing and dominating it, a harsh -metallic voice rang out. “There is no danger so long as no one resists. -Go quickly, all of you, and leave the rooms empty.” - -It was Doctor Bergius. He was standing on the table to the right, an -automatic in either hand. Around his head was bound a white bandage. -Suddenly Hugh heard a report near him. A croupier had put his hand on -the metal box where the big notes were kept; he collapsed instantly, -shot in the head by Castelli. - -Hugh was forced with the crowd into the refreshment room. He could -still see swarthy ruffians pouring from the small salon and hear -shrieks, shots, howls of excitement. - -The centre of the Casino had been cleared, hundreds of players had been -driven into the atrium, hundreds of others penned in the refreshment -room. Doctor Bergius still stood there, while Castelli and two others -looted the tables. The band that had worked the private rooms came -running back with their booty. They were joined almost immediately -by the gang that had been pillaging the main rooms. With revolvers -in hands, they formed a solid mass, their eyes flashing, their teeth -gleaming ferociously. The voice of Doctor Bergius again rang out: - -“Stay where you are, all of you. We have men posted to command the -crowd. If one of you moves from his place before a full ten minutes has -passed he will be shot. This is a solemn warning.” - -The doctor leaped down, and his men followed him, firing as they went. - -Hugh edged through the crowd; he wanted to see what was happening. The -last of the rear guard had disappeared into the smaller salon. Through -the open doorway he saw them descending by the window. No one had as -yet dared to move. Yes, there was _one_, a woman. Hugh saw her run -in from the atrium, and marvelled at her daring. Then he recognized -her. It was the tall woman who always dressed in grey. As she crossed -the threshold of the small salon, she fired at the two men who were -balanced on the sill; they swung around and returned the fire. Hugh -recognized Castelli and the doctor. Then they, too, disappeared and the -woman in grey lay still on the floor. - -Everything was quiet, impressively quiet. The ten minutes were up but -still no one was inclined to move. Hugh was the first to break the -spell. He ran across the empty hall to the nearest open window. Two -launches were steaming away. All was over now. The grand _coup_ had -been successful. When he turned back, the lackeys were carrying the -veiled woman into one of the private rooms. Suddenly Hugh remembered -the supposed suicide. He ran into the grand salon. The body still lay -under the table. He bent down and examined it. It was Vulning; the -false blonde beard was crimsoned with blood, and his head was blown -open. The revolver had been loaded with a real ball. The poor devil had -put an end to his own life. Doctor Bergius had seen to it that he had -saved them his share of the swag. What a joker the doctor was! - - -3. - -Hugh was sitting in his garden the following afternoon when Bob Bender -came to see him. He counted out ten bills of a thousand francs each. - -“There! if we failed it was through no fault of yours. You’ve earned -this. Now we want you to go away for awhile, disappear somewhere. We -want to hush the whole thing up, choke off all inquiries.” - -“All right. By the way, what about that poor woman who was shot?” - -“Oh, she’s all right! They only winged her. She dropped to avoid -further injury. But then I shouldn’t say ‘she.’ Do you know who that -was?” - -“No.” - -“Krantz.” - -“The devil!” - -“Yes, I was surprised myself. He’s been spying on the gang for months. -He’ll be all right in a few weeks.” - -“I’m glad. I liked Krantz. I say, you don’t need to be afraid of my -blabbing anything. But I don’t see how you are going to hush up a thing -like that. How are you going to account for it?” - -Bob grinned. - -“We’re giving out that it was the rehearsal of a cinema production.” - -“Well, I’ll be hanged!... All right. I’ll make myself scarce. I’ll -shove off somewhere this very night.” - -And three hours later he was on the boat bound for Corsica. - - -END OF BOOK FOUR - - - - -BOOK FIVE - -_The Man Hunt_ - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - -THE VALLEY OF THE GOLO - - -1. - -In the glimmer of early dawn, the big boat swung slowly into the -harbour. Under the lightening sky the steel grey waters changed to -steel blue; and the dark mysterious land smiled into friendliness. The -grey cubes piled against the mountain brightened into tall houses still -locked in sleep. Presently, with a fore-glow of citron, the clear rim -of the sun cut the sea-line; and the sea became jade green. The air -was diamond pure; the mountains took on colour; and Bastia awakened to -another careless day. - -High caserne-like houses, massive-walled and stucco-fronted; shabby -shops half a century behind the times; mustiness and age; cigarettes, -vendetta knives, and goat-flesh,--these were some of Hugh’s first -impressions of Bastia. - -He found a room in a tall hotel near the upper end of the town. It had -vast rambling corridors with many doors, none of which were numbered, -and to find his room he had to count each time the doorways from the -head of the staircase. The interiors of all the rooms were alike in -their simplicity. Each had high yellow walls, and a ceiling painted -with a design of flowers and fruit, a bed, a _commode_ with water-jug, -two cane bottomed chairs. - -Bastia soon bored Hugh. It’s streets seemed gloomy and sordid, its -people sunk in tradition. There was nothing to do. The first morning he -wandered up and down buying the numerous brands of local cigarettes. -In the afternoon he craved a cup of tea, but it seemed to be unknown. -Finally at a big café he found a brew which tasted like _tisane_. A -single gulp sufficed. - -At his hotel the food was very bad. The place was run on casual lines -by a family of Corsicans, swarthy, hairy, oily, with a suavity that -signified nothing. At his special request they procured him butter, but -it looked so much like axle-grease that he did not have the courage to -discover what it tasted like. At dinner he had a ragout of very young -lamb that tasted quite good, until the smallness of the bones suggested -to him that the lamb had been still-born, then he ate no more. - -In his overwhelming loneliness he thought that he would write to -Margot. He went to the so-called _salon_, dipped a rusted pen hopefully -into a dusty ink-bottle. Alas! it was dry. Discouraged, he rose and -sought the streets again. A few cheap cinemas were open, the bills -displaying cowboy pictures,--strong, silent, wooden-faced men and -romping, sunny-haired heroines. The streets were badly lighted and -suggested nocturnal adventure; but the frequent display of the vendetta -knife in the shop windows was an incentive towards virtue. He found a -big, dingy café, and, ordering a liqueur, fell to sampling one after -another the various brands of cigarettes he had purchased. He was -abysmally bored. Bastia was the finest place in the world, he decided, -to pass through without stopping. - -Then he went home to his hotel. Sitting on his bed in the candlelight, -he read his little guide-book. Suddenly he had an idea. He was fit, -foot-loose, free,--why not walk across the island? Yes, that was it. -He would tramp from Bastia to Agaccio. - - -2. - -Next morning he bought a small, cheap valise and packed in it the few -clothes he needed, also his sketching materials, as he might want to -make some colour notes on the way. He planned to take about a fortnight -to the trip, jogging along easily, studying the people, perhaps fishing -a little, and generally enjoying himself. - -This cheerful prospect reconciled him to another day in Bastia. He made -the acquaintance of a tourist party that were stopping at his hotel. -They were nearly all women, and their great subject of conversation was -not the beauties of the island but Food,--the feasts that awaited them -of fresh trout, black-birds and passionate pink wine. - -“Ah! you are English!” said a vivacious French girl to Hugh. “There -are so many English in Corsica, very aristocratic English. They have -been coming here for years, and seem to think they have discovered -the place. They rather resent us ordinary tourists. There is another -Englishman in the hotel. Perhaps you have seen him. He has the -room next to yours. Or he may be an American, he is so tall and -clean-shaven, and he wears those funny big round tortoise-shell -spectacles. They make people look like owls, I think. Do you know him? -I ask because he seems so quiet, so retiring. I am quite curious about -him.” - -“No, I haven’t seen him. But then I haven’t been near my room all day. -If I see him I’ll speak to him, and allay your curiosity about him.” - -That evening he passed the tall man in the gloom of the corridor. Hugh -was about to accost him when the man brushed past him and disappeared -hurriedly into his room. - -“Can’t be an American, after all,” thought Hugh, “or he’d be more -sociable. I’ll look up his name in the register.” - -When he did look it up, he found it was Wilbur P. Hoffmann, Jersey -City; that settled it. - - -3. - -The next morning, before starting out, he sought the proprietor of the -library where he had bought his guide-book, and inquired the best road -for his journey. - -“But, monsieur,” said the man, “it would be better to take the train to -Cassamozza; it is very flat and uninteresting as far as that. There the -mountains begin, and you go up the valley of the Golo. The train starts -in half an hour. You have just time to catch it, if you hurry.” - -The idea was a good one. Hugh hurried back to the hotel, leaped up the -two flights of stairs and burst into his room. He grabbed his valise, -which he had packed before going out, and rushed down into the street. -Within ten minutes he was seated in the train. - -The first class carriage in which he found himself was very small and -very dirty. He had to rub the windowpane with a newspaper in order to -see out. On the walls of the compartment were advertisements of the -wine of Cap Corse, a local _apéritif_, and a liquor called Cederatine. -There were three other passengers in the carriage, a fat, spectacled -man and two thin, spectacled women. From their accent he thought they -were German at first, but later decided they were Dutch. They did not -interest him. When the train started he turned his attention to the -scenery. A green level stretched away to brown marshes that in turn -yielded to the grey of the sea. At the tiny stations, sheltered by -eucalyptus trees, peasants laden with baskets got in and out. Hugh -attached a strap to the rings of his valise so that he could sling it -from his shoulder. He had packed it with bread, cheese and fruit, a tin -billy and a packet of tea. - -He had decided to walk for two hours after reaching Cassamozza, then -lunch in the open, so that it was with a sense of cheerful adventure -that he descended at the little station and started out on his long -tramp. How hot the way was! As he strode up the valley of the Golo the -sun was scorching, the road a dazzling white; below him was a furious -torrent, now dashing in dazzling foam amid great boulders, now swirling -greenly in gravelly pools. It delighted him; it was so pure, so wild, -so free. There was the _maquis_, too. It rose on either hand, clothing -the mountain sides with rich dark green. It was pathless, dense, the -best cover in the world. Here in the old days bandits had defied the -forces of law and order; but now, doubtless, they were all dead. - -With every step he realized more and more that he was advancing into -the land of legend and history. He passed a hoary shepherd, who might -have stepped from the pages of romance. The old man had a long beard -and was dressed in brown corduroy. On his head he wore a picturesque -_beret_, and strapped to his back was a huge blue umbrella and a gun. -He was leaning motionless on his long staff, gazing over a flock of -black-haired sheep that mottled the hillside. Hugh felt the poetry of -it--the mountains soaring to meet the sky, the white torrent roaring -in his ears, the solitary shepherd, white-bearded as a patriarch of old. - -He was becoming hungry, furiously hungry, and he thought with joy of -the simple fare tucked away in his valise. He climbed down to the -river, and in the shadow of a great rock made a cheerful fire of -driftwood. Now for the tea. Confound it! What was the matter with his -valise? His key refused to turn in the lock. - -“That is the worst of these cheap bags,” he complained; “the key always -jams when you are in a devil of a hurry.” - -He was ravenously hungry. His mouth watered even at the thought of -bread and cheese. Damn the thing! It was a pity to break the lock but -there seemed no help for it. Another effort. There, it was yielding. -Bravo! it had suddenly burst open.... Good God! - -He stared blankly at what he saw. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. -No, he was not dreaming, he was not mad ... they were there, dozens of -them ... packets tightly tied, neatly arranged, numbered.... _Thousand -franc bank-notes_. There seemed to be a hundred to a packet, and there -were twenty-eight packets. Nearly three million francs! What could it -all mean? Still staring at the wealth in his possession, he sat down -and tried to think. The Golo roared in his ears. Between two grim grey -boulders it crashed; it swirled and eddied into a great green pool. In -those pure depths could be seen the darting shadows of trout. - -_Three million francs!_ - -He breathed the perfume of the _maquis_. He saw it carpeting the broad -valley, rising to the mountain ridges that met the sky. Yonder like a -carved figure the patriarchal shepherd stood motionless by his flock. -It was like a dream. - -_Three million francs._ - -Yes, there they were in that little valise. He looked closely at it; -it was not his valise. It was quite different from the one he had -bought, bigger and finer! He had taken it by mistake. How could he -have made such a blunder? It had been in his room.... Or had it been -in his room? Ah! that was it. In his furious hurry to catch the train -he must have entered the wrong room.... But whose? Why, whose but the -tall American’s; Wilbur P. Hoffmann’s. Now he was getting at it. He -had rushed into the room adjoining his and carried away the American’s -valise. It was not such a strange thing to do, after all. The rooms -were all alike, the doors unnumbered. He had not examined particularly -his valise when he had bought it; and it was little wonder that he had -not noticed the difference. Yes, he had carried away another man’s -valise containing nearly three million francs. What should he do with -it? Go back to Cassamozza and telegraph, of course! The tall American -must be in a devil of a stew. But what was Wilbur P. Hoffmann doing -packing three million francs around in a hand valise? It was a rum -affair.... - -Hugh realized suddenly his own position. It was dangerous to be -carrying such a treasure in this wild, primitive country. Few men would -hesitate to kill him to gain possession of it. Even now some one might -be watching him. Half fearfully he looked around. Then he closed the -valise with a snap. Some one _was_ watching him. It was a peasant lad -who had bobbed up from the other side of the big boulder. - -“Hullo,” said Hugh. - -“_Bon jour, monsieur._” - -The lad drew nearer. He carried a long cane fishing-rod and had a -canvas wallet slung at his back. He wore an old army tunic on which was -sewn the yellow ribband of the military medal. He also limped badly. -His age was about that of Hugh, and his face was olive tinted and bold -featured. - -“How is the fishing?” - -“Not bad, monsieur. A little too clear. Still, look....” - -Opening his satchel he showed Hugh four fine trout. Suddenly Hugh -remembered that he was hungry. - -“Listen,” he said, “I’ve walked from Cassamozza, and I’ve forgotten to -bring anything to eat. I’m dying of hunger. I suppose it wouldn’t be -possible to cook these?” - -“Nothing easier, monsieur. I generally cook a fish or two for lunch. -See....” - -He took from his wallet a small frying-pan and a bottle of olive oil. - -“Already you have a fire made. We will cook these in no time, and you -will see how nice they will be.” - -He soon had the fish simmering on the fire. He produced a piece of -coarse bread and even some salt. When the fishes were cooked Hugh -laid them on a flat stone. He ate with his hands, stripping the bones -with his fingers. What matter! There was lots of water to wash in -afterwards, all the Golo a giant finger-bowl at his feet. He had never -tasted fish quite so delicious. - -“There! I feel better,” he said at last. “Now for a good drink at the -river and a smoke.” - -He produced cigarettes and the two smoked comfortably. - -“Been at the War?” asked Hugh. - -“Yes,” said the lad. “Verdun. I got wounded in the leg there. It still -bothers me. Two of my brothers were killed. There’s not a family here -but lost some one. You know we Corsicans are brave. There were no -braver men in the French army than our regiments. But they don’t like -the Corsicans in France. The French generals sacrificed us.” - -He shook his head sadly. - -“Ah! poor Corsica. It is the forgotten island. So rich, yet so -neglected. We are supposed to be savage, but there is no people so -kindly. But we are poor, oh, so poor. Look at me. I have not a _sou_. -And I will always be like this, poor, ragged, ignorant. It is hard.” - -“What would you do if you had ... say three million francs?” - -“Ah, monsieur, you jest. That is all the money in the world. Why, I -would buy my old mother the cottage she lives in; then I would go to -Paris and get an education. I would live like a fine gentleman. Ah! -Paris. I was there once. What a time I had! I shall never forget it. -Well, now I must catch some more fish for our supper this night.” - -Hugh tried to give him a bill for five francs, but the lad drew back -proudly. - -“No, monsieur, we are a hospitable people. We do what little we can to -make the stranger welcome. I thank you, but I can accept nothing.” He -limped away in his rags and Hugh did not see him again. - - -4. - -Once more Hugh climbed to the road. He would go on, he decided, to the -next station and telegraph there. What a beastly nuisance! He would -have to return to Bastia. That American, who was he? Even in that brief -moment in the corridor there had been something vaguely familiar about -him. What if he were a criminal fleeing from justice! What if.... Good -Heavens!... Hugh stopped short as the great idea flashed on him. Could -it be?... Could it be that Wilbur P. Hoffmann was.... - -He tore open the valise again, and fell to examining the notes. Some -pencil markings confirmed his suspicion.... Was it Doctor Bergius? -Absurd! Yet why not? Doctor Bergius with his beard shaved off, his -head cropped, would not look very unlike Wilbur P. Hoffmann. He had -noticed, even in the obscurity, the man’s large, beak-like nose. -Conviction grew on him. Yes, the tall American was Doctor Bergius. Here -now was a pretty mess. What was he to do? The Casino had been robbed -of three million francs. He was alone with the booty in the savage -heart of Corsica; he could not return it to the robbers, and to return -it to the Casino ... hum! That didn’t quite appeal to him either. He -had not much sympathy with the Casino. They could well afford to lose -it. It would be better to hand it over to some deserving charity. In -the meantime what was to be done? He could not carry the stuff round. -He must dispose of it for the moment. That was it. He would hide it. -He had been hearing for some time, as he walked, the roar of a great -waterfall, and saw it about three hundred yards further on at the head -of a very wild and solitary gorge. Climbing over the rocks, he reached -the base of the cliff where the white shaft of water plunged into a -deep pool. He found that the rock over which it fell shelved back into -a low cave. He crawled in; it was quite dry. He took out the bundles -of bank-notes, and wrapping them in his waterproof coat, bound the -parcel tightly with stout cord. Then he crawled still further into the -cave and jammed it into a fissure of the rock. - -“There! It’s safe,” he said. “It can remain in that cleft a thousand -years and no one will find it.” - -He crawled out cautiously, and, after reconnoitring to see that no one -had observed him, continued on his way. - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -IN THE “MAQUIS” - - -1. - -Amid the gorges of the Golo the white road wound on and up. The -_maquis_ encroached on it, frowned on it shaggily. Once or twice Hugh -plunged into the perfumed cover and explored it for a few yards. The -landscape lay sunny and still. - -On the other side of the road, all strength and joy, the river leapt -like a living thing; it charged the boulders, it flashed in foam, it -gleamed in green pools. Sometimes he saw peasants with cane-poles -tempting the unsophisticated trout. - -He came on other ancient shepherds, with big flocks of black sheep, -or goats. They always bowed profoundly, then resumed their statuesque -pose. From time to time he passed cottages with red tiled roofs. Sturdy -children, peach-skinned, with dark, glossy hair, and bold black eyes, -came out to stare at him. A poor, proud, self-reliant race. - -Beside each house was its own private graveyard. Often the tombs were -walled, so that the dead were better housed than the living. - -Sometimes the road dived into groves of cork-trees. They had all been -stripped of their barks, the new growth showing by its colour and depth -the number of years since each tree had been scaled. - -Hugh found the way full of interest, and would have been very happy -indeed, had it not been for the thought of the money. It haunted him. -Why had Doctor Bergius brought it here? Had he given the others the -slip, or were they all here? If they were, then heaven help him! -They would soon be on his trail, and would never let up. They were -relentless. In this lonely seabound island how could he escape them? -In spite of the bright sunshine and the reassuring tranquillity of his -surroundings, he shuddered. - -High up in the folds of the hills he saw grey mountain villages, each -clustered about a tall church, and looking so still, so dreamlike, that -it was hard to believe any one lived there. Nearly all the women he -met were dressed in black with black-silk scarfs knotted around their -heads. He remembered that in this land the period of mourning is seven -years, so that it is rare for a woman to be out of black. - -He had passed many round rings of stone on the green sward. He asked a -stalwart farmer what they were and was told that they were threshing -floors. They still used oxen to trample the corn as they had done ever -since the time of the Romans. Then as the sun was setting, he met a -caped and bearded shepherd, leading home his flock, and carrying a lost -lamb in his arms. - -It was evening when he reached Ponte Lecchio and found a lodging for -the night. His room was large and lofty, quite bare except for a large -crucifix on the white-washed wall. As he was dropping off to sleep he -thought of Margot. She must be very busy preparing for her wedding. -He ought to write to her, and give her his fraternal blessing. But -somehow he couldn’t. Of course, what she was doing was for the best. -He hoped she would be happy and all that sort of thing. He had always -advised her to marry, and now she was doing it; yet somehow it made him -melancholy. - -“I’ll get over it,” he sighed dolefully; “I’ll forget all about her.” - -In the morning he resumed his tramp. He had luncheon at a place called -Omessa, in an _auberge_. He ate slices of the raw ham of the country, -Roquefort cheese made on the neighbouring farms, figs and walnuts, -all washed down with the rich wine of the country. Thus heartened -he continued his way. As he neared the station of Omessa he heard -the train whistle. He loitered to let it pass. He bought a couple of -oranges from a woman squatting on the platform beside a great round -basket full of them, then stepped back into the grimy waiting room. He -was idly peeling one of the oranges when the train drew up. The window -of the waiting room was plastered with time-table bills, but in the -narrow space between them Hugh peered out. - -Suddenly his heart seemed to lift in a sickening way. At the door of a -first class carriage were three men,--Castelli, Golaz and Gamba. They -were after him. As he stared through the narrow chink he saw Gamba -descend and buy some oranges. Then a fourth man came from the back -of the compartment. It was Wilbur P. Hoffmann. The supposed American -looked up and down the platform. His face was worried and anxious. -Hugh’s suspicion was correct. That hard, grim face, dominated by its -beak-like nose, was none other than Doctor Bergius. - -“Take a look round the station,” cried the doctor to Gamba. “He may be -here. We cannot afford to take any chances.” - -Hugh had just time to rush from the waiting room by the back door -as Gamba entered. He heard a step on the wooden floor, and knew the -little man was coming after him. How could he escape? At the end of -the station house was a small stone building into which he darted. -He pulled the door shut, holding the handle with all his strength. -Around him were brushes and a ladder. Under his feet he heard the -crunch of coal. He was evidently in the closet used by the caretaker -of the station. As he held the door, he heard a step outside and Gamba -seized the handle, cursing volubly. Hugh held on grimly. Although Gamba -supposed the door was locked, he made another effort to open it. He -had powerful hands had the Strangler. Hugh felt the handle gradually -turning in his grip. Another instant and Gamba would conquer. Then the -train whistled, and Gamba hurried off. - -Hugh waited a full ten minutes before he emerged from the closet. The -train has gone; he saw it puffing far up the valley. There was no one -on the platform. He was safe. - -For the moment at least. The train was bearing his enemies away, but -to-morrow they would return. When they discovered he had not arrived at -Agaccio they would double back. They were like a pack of blood hounds -on his trail and the hunt was only beginning. He was entirely at their -mercy. He must use his wits and trust to Providence. - - -2. - -Before he reached Corte the weather had changed; clouds had collected, -and a fine rain was falling. He found a poor room in a large, -unsanitary hotel, but dined decently on an omelette and some fried -trout. - -Corte in the drizzling twilight was very depressing. An old fortress -stood on a rocky point against a savage mountain. Clammy scarfs of mist -wreathed the peaks and trailed down the passes. Hugh wandered about the -muddy main street, halting on the greasy pavement to peer down dark -and ruinous courts. Seen under that cowl of sky, through the curtain of -soft rain, Corte was indeed a joyless and discomforting place. - -He sought his room, and spent an uneasy night between damp sheets. He -was sorry now he had not made for Bastia and hid there until a boat -sailed. The thought of the doctor and his band of desperadoes frankly -terrified him. Well, he would go on now, and trust to luck. - -Next morning the rain had ceased, although it still threatened. It -would be better, he thought, to lunch by the wayside; and he bought -some cheese, fruit, bread and a bottle of wine. Thus provisioned he -started up the mountain road that was to take him on the next stage of -his journey. - -Ever since he had left Cassamozza he had been climbing steadily. He -had left behind the lemon and orange groves, and now was steadily -mounting to a land of oak forests and ravines. The flocks of sheep had -given place to herds of goats, and the _maquis_ was growing more and -more aggressive. Down in the dim valley, like a silver tape, was the -Tavignano meandering to the sea. On the other side of the valley were -two precipitously perched villages. He passed many little roadside -shrines, and one or two old lime kilns. Here and there were bearded -goatherds in long black cloaks, standing as motionless as scarecrows in -a wheatfield. At noon he sat down on the edge of the _maquis_ and ate -his luncheon. - -He was just finishing his meal, when he paused and listened. Surely he -heard the faint chugging of a motor.... Yes, yonder it was, a small car -cautiously descending the mountain road. Some instinct made him draw -back into the bush. Well he did so, for it was the four men who were -hunting him, Castelli driving with the doctor, Golaz and Gamba behind. -Hugh saw their eyes searching the road on either side. Now they were -looking at the very spot where he lay. But the brush was thick, and -they passed slowly on. A narrow escape! - -They must have started early that morning from Agaccio. He knew they -would have little difficulty in tracing him on that island where -strangers were rare. It was just a question of time, of getting his -location narrowed down. They would learn that he had stopped at Corte -and had taken the road to Agaccio. Then they would turn back to search -for him, inquiring at every house and village on the way. Beyond him -was the little hillside town of Venaco. They would inquire if he had -passed through. Well, he would not pass through; he would take to the -_maquis_ and go round. - -All afternoon he kept to the _maquis_, avoiding villages, hamlets -and even houses. He scrambled over rocks, stumbled through brush. He -flattered himself that not even a peasant had seen him. He kept close -to the road, his ear ever alert for the far off sound of a motor. - -He was making slow progress, but he could see no other way. By now -they must have traced him to Corte, and learned that he was but a few -miles away. Doubtless they had asked the peasants to look out for him, -even offered a reward. Perhaps at that very moment a score of stalwart -Corsicans were scouring the bush for him. He had but one slim chance of -escape, that of lying low, working his way to Agaccio and catching the -boat for Marseilles. - -He decided to sleep that night in the _maquis_. Under the shadow of -an overhanging rock he found a place that was quite dry and screened -by the foliage of an oak tree. He made a tiny fire, ate what remained -of his food, and smoked a good deal. If only he had had a blanket he -would have been fairly comfortable. - -He arose with the dawn, stiff and sore. He took to the road, thinking -he would meet no one at that early hour. He was ravenously hungry and -felt reckless. When he came to the solitary house of a shepherd, he -ventured to approach it and ask for food. - -It was a two storied house with plastered walls, and a red tiled roof. -An outer stairway led to the upper floor where the family lived; the -ground floor was used as a stable. - -As he knocked at the rough door he told himself he must seem rather a -sorry sight. A night in the _maquis_ had not improved his appearance. -If he had only been wearing the corduroys of the country ... but he was -in a brown Norfolk jacket, grey flannel trousers and a panama. He was -not surprised when the bearded and spectacled old man who opened the -door stared at him with astonishment. - -“Can I have something to eat?” he asked. - -Corsican hospitality is proverbial. - -“_Entrez donc, monsieur_,” said the old man. - -Hugh entered. The house consisted of but one big room meagerly -furnished. Hams hung from the rafters, and at a small stove a woman, -surrounded by a brood of half-clad children, was preparing coffee. The -old man offered him a chair. - -“The place is yours, monsieur. Make yourself at home.” - -He ate some bread and drank his coffee, then rose to go. The old man -detained him. In half intelligible French he began to relate the -family history: they were miserably poor; his son, the father of the -small brood, only worked at intervals. They had a garden, some goats, -pigs, chickens, a few cultivated acres. Praise God there was always -something to feed the children. Would monsieur like to taste their -home-cured ham? Ah! now he must insist. - -There was a heavy step on the outer stair and the old man went quickly -to the door. Hugh heard hurried whispers then the step descended -rapidly. The old man returned, and continued to cut the ham. He offered -it raw after the fashion of the country. Hugh would have preferred it -cooked, but under the circumstances he thought it best to bolt it down -as it was. Then he rose again and said he must be on his way. - -Again the old man tried to detain him. “Why not stay a little and rest -yourself? There is a nice warm bed, and we have goat’s meat for dinner. -You must see how good it is.” - -The old man almost hung onto his arm. His eagerness seemed very -suspicious, so Hugh gently detached himself and bade good-bye to the -family. As he went up the road, he saw them all watching him from the -doorway. - -No sooner was the house out of sight than he took to the _maquis_. His -fears were justified, for about an hour later two cars passed very -slowly. The first, the small green one he had already seen, contained -Castelli, Golaz and Gamba; the other, a big powerful grey, driven by a -chauffeur, held Doctor Bergius. They had heard of him, no doubt, at the -house of the shepherd, and were patrolling the road. But, hidden as he -was in that dense jungle of _maquis_, they had little chance of finding -him. He imagined that they must have telegraphed to Bastia for the big -grey car. - -About two o’clock he saw the two cars going back in the direction of -Venaco, and once more ventured to take to the road. As he passed a -dismal farm a man and a woman paused in their work to regard him. He -wanted to ask them for food, but their manner was so strange that he -decided it was wiser to go on. When he was a little way from the house, -he saw the man leap on a mule and ride off in the opposite direction. -Evidently the whole countryside had been warned, and every one was on -the look-out for him. It would be only a matter of time before they -cornered him. Once again he took to the _maquis_. - -Rain had begun to fall. The underbrush was drenched and he was cold and -wet. Still he pushed doggedly on. His despair gave him strength and he -covered quite a distance. He cut off a big bend in the road by going -straight through the bush. As he was in the midst of the _maquis_ he -heard again the sound of a motor. Climbing a rock he peered cautiously -over the country. Close to the road a number of peasants were moving -back and forth. They were beating the bush for him. - -Still more cautiously he moved forward. Half an hour later he came -out on the road once more. Not far away he heard the beaters crashing -through the brush. Soon they must find him. He peered around carefully -... then his heart leaped. - -Standing by the side of the road was the little green car. It was -empty. Castelli and the others had gotten out and were searching for -him. He looked up and down the road. There was no sign of them. - -Then a desperate idea came to him.... Yes, he would do it. - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -IN THE MOUNTAINS - - -Once more he looked up and down the road. Still no sign of any one. Now -was the moment. - -He sprang to the little green car and spun the handle. Would it start -or not? The motor breathed gently. Exultation flamed in him. A good -car and a good road ... the devil himself could not stop him now. He -leapt to the seat, jerking off the brake and giving her gas at the same -moment. Then he heard a shout from behind, and turned his head sharply. -About a hundred yards behind him Gamba had come out of the _maquis_. - -There was no time to lose. The little man was running like a deer. How -about the gears? Hugh looked down at the gate in which they worked, a -four-speed gear box. They must go the usual way,--front, back, cross -and front, back. Quick, Gamba was getting closer! He jammed in the -first speed, and the car moved slowly forward. Second speed! He was -going faster now, but Gamba was still gaining. Third speed! He heard -close behind him the hard, panting breath of his pursuer. Gamba was -running like the wind. Quickly he shot into high; and at the same -instant he heard a heavy thump on the back of the car. Gamba had jumped -and was hanging on behind. - -The car was going at a fair speed now. If he only could get rid of that -grinning little devil behind all would be well. Gamba was hoisting -himself up. Soon he would be in the car, and then.... Hugh looked back -once more. The man was waist-high above the hood. In another moment it -would be too late. Ha! there on the floor by his feet was a spare can -of petrol. That might do. He reached for it and with all his strength -flung it over his shoulder. It must have caught Gamba square on the -face, for he heard a crash and a howl. When he looked again Gamba was -gone. He had a brief glimpse of him sprawling on the road. Then on and -on at increasing speed. - -Suddenly from the _maquis_ he heard a shout like the hoarse bellow of a -bull. Before him, on a snag of rock, was the burly figure of Golaz. The -man shook huge fists at him in impotent rage. The rock was about twenty -yards away from the road and Hugh knew he could pass it before Golaz -had time to descend. He put on a burst of speed. The car leapt forward. - -What was Golaz after? He had bent down and was wrenching furiously at -the rock. He detached a great fragment of it and stood with it poised -above his head. What a ferocious figure he made against that savage -background, his dark face distorted with rage! - -Instinctively Hugh slowed up. He knew what was coming. A car is a hard -object to miss, and that great rock crashing down on any part of it, -would hopelessly wreck him. There was no way of avoiding it; the road -was narrow with thick brush on either hand. Nothing but to dash forward -and take his chance. - -He opened the throttle to the full, and the little car answered like a -living thing. It seemed to pause for an astonished moment, then bounded -forward so swiftly that it almost seemed to leave the ground. At the -same instant the great stone came crashing down. - -Would it hit him? He heard a snarl of rage from Golaz and a dull thump -on the road behind him. Yes, that admirable response of his engine, -that sudden spurt of speed had deceived the man. The great stone had -missed by a hand’s breadth. - -“Oh, you gallant little beast!” breathed Hugh to the car. “You’re a -thoroughbred. You’ll save me yet.” - -Behind him Golaz continued to roar and wave his arms. Hugh had a flash -of intuition that his danger was not yet over. He was right. From the -_maquis_ about a hundred yards ahead, darted the figure of another man -... Castelli. He stood in the centre of the road with his automatic -pistol, and waited. Hugh was reckless. He must pass that man. A wave of -hate surged through him; Castelli was trying to kill him; well, then, -he would try to kill Castelli. He would run him down. - -The car was going at full speed, rocking and bounding in its leaps. -Castelli drew a little to one side and with a quick twist of the wheel -Hugh swerved and bore down on him. The man saw his intention and sprang -away. That leap saved Hugh; a bullet struck and starred his windshield; -another whistled past his head; a third punched a harmless hole in one -of his rear mud-guards. Then he passed out of range. He was free ... -free. - -Once more exultation flamed in him. The road, ever climbing higher, -followed the folds of the mountains. Sometimes, as he looked ahead, -it would seem to come to an end and the careening car be about to -leap into the vast void of the valley. But as he drew near, it hooked -sharply round, and with a wrench of the wheel he was safe on a new -stretch. Below him, far, far below, he could see the white bed of the -Tavignano, the river like a blue ribband tangled amid the boulders. -He seemed to be in the clouds, and rising, rising to the top of the -world. He stopped the car for a moment to consult his map. - -Good! It was only three o’clock, and not more than some eighty -kilometres to Agaccio. If nothing happened he could make it by -nightfall. True, they might telegraph to the police, and have him -stopped at some wayside village. No, that was not likely. They did not -want to have any dealings with the police. Once at Agaccio he was safe. - -He was about to start again, when he heard a sound that checked him. -With a hand on the wheel he listened intently. From far down the valley -it came, the faint tick-tock of a straining motor. He ran his eye along -the sinuous curve of road that was like a white tape-line tacked to the -mountain. Yes, there it was, about two miles away, the long grey auto -racing in pursuit. - -“If they want to catch me, they’ll have to do some giddy going,” he -muttered, as once more he slammed on his speeds. - -The little car, panting with eagerness, ate up the road. If only it had -been a straight road he could have launched forward, but the hair-pin -bends baffled him. As he swung around them, a swerve of a few inches -would have shot him a thousand feet into the valley below. Ahead of -him the mountains rose like a solid wall, gaunt and stupendous. They -seemed to crowd around him, to close him in, to block his way. Clouds -cloaked their higher summits and the drizzling rain had grown chill and -dispiriting. The increasing stickiness of the way made careful driving -more and more necessary. Dizzily on his right rose the mountain; on his -left sheerly dropped the valley. A skid would be fatal. - -Nervously he slackened speed, but even as he did so his heart seemed -to contract. On the bend of the hill below he saw the grey car. It -swung madly round a corner and strained on with relentless energy. That -chauffeur must be a demon. The four men were urging him to greater -speed, bending forward with fierce excited gestures. They were not more -than half a mile behind and every second the distance was lessening. -Once more Hugh gave the car gas and she leaped forward. - -They should not capture him. That would mean torture, death. He knew -them. They were exasperated now beyond all reason. They would show him -no mercy. And they were gaining on him, gaining relentlessly, inch by -inch. - -It was getting gloomier, he noticed,--and more chilly. Yet in spite of -the increasing cold, great drops of sweat beaded his brow. With hands -tensely clutching the driving wheel he glared at the glistening road -ahead. His motor was going with a steady roar; and the car was bucking -and plunging in a maddened frenzy of speed. He was near the top of the -long valley, and soon would be dashing into the dark defiles of the -mountains. But before he could reach them he would have to pass over a -long bit of straight road. It was on this, he feared, the final tussle -would come. - -He had not gone more than a third of a mile when he heard the grey car -come around the corner behind him. They were now on the same stretch, -running for every last ounce of power in their motors. The grey car -roared down on him like the wind. It must be doing eighty miles an hour -to his forty. With his foot jammed hard on the gas-pedal, he clutched -the bucking wheel. The car bounded and rocked beneath him. It was all -he could do to keep it on the road. The hillside was a blur, the wind -screamed in his ears. - -With every spin of its great engine the grey car was gaining. He dared -not look around, but he felt sure that the four men were reaching -forward, revolvers in hands, tense, grim, implacable. The giant panting -of their motor drowned the roar of his own. He could do no more, ... he -was at his full burst of speed. - -He watched the road rise sharply before him. It was on that long slope -he would be caught. He knew it. As he struck the rise, his speed -dropped. Not so that of the grey car, it seemed to come on faster than -ever. It roared like an angry monster; its panting deafened him.... - -What was that? A bullet. They were near enough to shoot; they had him! -He crouched low as another bullet sung past his ears. In a moment -more he would jam in his brakes, stop the car brutally, leap into the -_maquis_. He had a revolver; he would sell his life for a grim price. -At least two of these devils should pay! - -Then he heard another report, and his heart gave a leap of joy. Could -it be the bursting of a tire? Yes, he was right. There were shouts, -curses, furious exclamations, then silence. On he hurtled, hardly -believing in his luck. He could no longer hear them, and at the head of -the valley, he slowed up and looked round. The grey car had come to a -standstill. The men had gotten out and were busy fitting on a new tire. -That would take them ten minutes at least. He had already gained nearly -a mile. In ten minutes he could do another five. Let him only have six -miles between them, and, with luck, he would beat them yet. He put on -speed again. - -How marvellously the road was mounting! Great craggy peaks soared up -on every side. Dark ravines yawned beneath him. Ahead was a cloud-mass, -heavy as a sponge. The rainy drizzle had thickened to a downpour. The -car now splashed through pools of water, now slithered over stretches -of mud. Then the forests began to close in on both sides of the road -and give him a sense of security. The country had completely changed. -The road descended into dripping oakgroves, and spanned dark gulleys, -down which brawled angry torrents. - -Then it began to climb again, and the oaks gave way to pines. He had -been travelling for nearly an hour, and had heard no sound of his -pursuers. What had happened to them? Perhaps something worse than a -damaged tire. He must be far ahead of them by now. He was rapidly -mounting to the Col of Vizzavona. According to his map, when he had -crossed the divide, he would drop down into Agaccio. Only let him -surmount the Col and he could coast downhill for the rest of the way. -He should make Agaccio by dark. For the third time that day he glowed -with exultation. - -It was getting very cold. The pines were chill and gloomy. The rain -seemed to sting.... What was that just ahead, that patch of white? -Surely it could not be snow? Yes. It was a short stretch, quite -shallow. The car bounded through it easily. But look, another, broader, -deeper! The car slid a little this time, and his heart sank. Then he -saw the road was clear, and his hopes rose again. He mounted a ridge. -He must be in the very heart of the mountains now. The mist rolled and -dipped, cloaking the stark peaks that ringed him round. Surely he could -not go much higher. - -Again the road dropped swiftly. At the bottom of the dip, his car -plunged into a great drift of snow, a foot deep and half melted. For -a few yards it struggled on, them slackened speed and came almost to a -standstill. Desperately he strove to force his way through; his wheels -were whirring and slipping in the rain-rotted snow. He could not budge. -He realized that it was useless. - -Jumping out he reconnoitred the road ahead. It was filled with drifts, -snow without a break. He never could get through. Stalled! Hopelessly -stuck! Going back he tried once again. The car struggled gallantly, but -to no use. He looked at it ruefully. - -“Bless you, you gallant little beast,” he said. “You’ve served me more -than nobly. Now it’s got to be good-bye.” - -Then he left the road and plunged into the forest. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -IN THE FOREST - - -1. - -He intended to remain in the cover of the forest, even, if need be, to -spend the night there. In any case he would keep well away from the -road and work through the wild country to Agaccio. Fortunately the -forest was an open one. On the heights were pines, in the hollows oaks. -Under the trees the rocks were covered with moss or a short growth of -fern. There was nothing to impede him save the frequent gorges and -brawling streams, and he made good progress. He was wet through; but in -his excitement he felt neither cold nor fatigue, not even hunger. - -Then, as night drew near, he began to be conscious of all three. The -prospect of passing the hours of darkness in the forest daunted him. He -might become crippled with rheumatism, perhaps contract pneumonia. He -was afraid. - -So presently stumbling on a narrow trail, he followed it eagerly, -even breaking into a run. It was well defined and must lead to some -habitation. - -It had grown dark and he could hardly see the path. Several times -he lost it and stumbled into wet fern. He went on more cautiously, -drenched, shivering, discouraged. Would the trail never end? It went up -and up, climbing deeper into the savage fastnesses. He was so tired, -so miserably tired; he longed to lie down and rest. But that would -be fatal. He must struggle on. His heart failed him, his weakness -increased. Perhaps the little trail led nowhere. Despair seized him. -Just as he was about to succumb, he saw a light. It was streaming -through the shuttered window of a house, a house so near he almost -blundered into it. He found the door and knocked. A step; then a voice -asked: - -“Who is there?” - -“A traveller. I’ve lost my way. Please let me in.” - -A heavy bolt was drawn, and the door opened cautiously. A tall old man -holding a lamp over his head, stood in the doorway. His face was in the -shadow, but Hugh could see that it was round and jovial. The man looked -at him for a long moment, then said: - -“Ah! my poor monsieur, you are indeed in a plight. Excuse me that I -did not open sooner. But there are bandits about, and one has to be -careful.” - -He led Hugh into a bare room in which there was a long table and some -rough benches. It was like the public room of some country _auberge_, -hard, primitive, nakedly clean, but its cheerlessness was vanquished by -a huge fire that blazed in the great open fireplace. The old man set -the lamp on the table. - -“Welcome, monsieur. My name is Pascal Martini. I keep a place of public -entertainment; you have fallen well.” - -“And I am a tourist,” said Hugh. “I was going to Agaccio in a car, but -got stuck in the snow near the summit, and followed a trail that led me -here.” - -“It is good,” said Martini. “If you had followed the road you would -have gotten waist deep in snow. It has lasted now for three days, the -storm. And to think that down near the coast they have oranges and -peach trees in blossom. It is wonderful, our Corsica. We have three -climates in so small a space. I regret that we are giving you at this -moment a taste of its most unpleasant one. You are wet through. If you -will condescend to wear some of my poor garments I will give you a -complete change.” - -Hugh expressed his gratitude, and, standing in the glow of the blazing -logs, stripped and rubbed himself with a rough towel. He felt the glow -return to his frozen limbs. He put on the woollen shirt, stockings, and -the corduroy breeches Martini handed to him. - -“The costume of a hunter,” said the inn-keeper. “It is chiefly hunters -and fishermen who come here. Sometimes wood-cutters. Occasionally -bandits.” - -“Where am I?” asked Hugh. - -“About five miles up in the mountains behind Vizzavona. Later in the -year hunting parties come and my place is always full. Now there is no -one. I am indeed glad to see you. But I waste time. I must prepare you -some supper. You must be ravenous.” - -“I am rather.” - -“Ah, my poor monsieur! And I have no meat in the house. What a -misfortune. All I can offer you is fish, fresh mountain trout. Come, -you shall see. I will catch them fresh from the water.” - -He lit a pine torch at the fire, and taking a scoop-net in his hand, -led the way to the back of the house where Hugh heard the roar of the -stream. - -“In the dark you cannot see,” said Martini; “but it is really very -picturesque here. The back of my house is level with the face of rock -that falls to the stream. It forms a very deep pool that I call my -fish-pond. I stock it against the time when I have many guests. At -the upper end is a small waterfall, and at the lower I have a grill -so that the fish cannot escape. You can hear the roar of my waterfall. -I love it. It is something alive in the deadness and silence of the -forest. In the night I awake and hear its friendly roar. I have been a -sailor, monsieur, and it reminds me of the sea. In the morning I strip -and stand under it. I brace myself and let it crash down on me; it -beats and stings. In the coldest weather it is only pleasantly bitter, -a hearty tonic.... Now, if monsieur will wait here, I will descend the -rock and get some fish.” - -As Hugh looked down, he thought how strange and wild was the scene. The -old man bent over the water and the flare of his torch revealed the -mysterious depths of the pool, and the white curtain of the waterfall. -Overhead was the harsh foliage of the pines. The inn-keeper scooped -round in the coppery eddy of the water, and presently climbed back up -the face of the rock. In his net two silvery trout were leaping and -gasping. - -“There! I have already supped; but I expect you can manage both.” - - -2. - -Hugh always remembered that evening before the glorious fire. He smoked -old Pascal’s tobacco, and listened to his yarns. The inn-keeper had -voyaged far, and could talk of many lands, but always he brought the -conversation back to Corsica. - -“It is the vendetta that makes the bandits,” said Pascal. “They are not -bad men as a rule. But they have made their kill, and from then on are -forced to live beyond the clutches of the law. Very often it all arises -from a political brawl; for we Corsicans are fiery politicians. That -was the case with Angelo Rocco, who lives in a cave five kilometres -from here. They say he had quite a future before him in public life. -But one night in a café the heady Corsican wine was flowing, words ran -high, pistols were drawn, an opponent of Rocco was shot; and Rocco had -to take to the mountains. He belongs to a very old and distinguished -family, too. Every one sympathizes with him; even the gendarmes let -him alone. He often comes here. He can have all I’ve got.... But, of -course, they are not all like that.” - -Hugh saw the inn-keeper through an increasing veil of drowsiness. As he -leaned forward to prime his pipe in the glow of the great fire Pascal -was a striking figure, a tall, strong, hearty old man with thick grey -hair and a pleasant smile on his ruddy face. Then suddenly a shadow -seemed to fall on it; it grew grim, even sinister. The tone of his -voice changed. - -“No, they are not all like that. Monsieur, I, too, am involved in a -blood feud. It is for that I sailed the seas for half a lifetime; for -that I now shutter my windows at night. Yet it was long ago, that last -vengeance. It was a younger brother of mine who fell. He was only a -child, playing on the doorstep before my mother’s eyes. A dark man came -out of the mountains and shot him even as he rushed to her arms. ‘Bad -weeds are best uprooted young,’ the murderer said cynically, and went -away....” - -Pascal rose suddenly. His face was convulsed with passion, his hands -knotted. He seemed transformed into a savage beast. - -“I’ll get him yet,” he cried. “He’s an old, old man now, but I’ll kill -him like a dog. Yes, I’ll get him yet....” - -Then the inn-keeper gave an uneasy look at his shuttered windows and -added: “That is, if he doesn’t get me.... But here I am, I am yarning -away about my own affairs, and monsieur is so weary, he drops asleep. -Pardon me. Come, I will show you to your room.” - -He conducted Hugh up a steep stairway that gave on a narrow corridor. - -“Here are three rooms. I will give you the middle one, which is the -biggest. It looks out over the valley. To-morrow you will see the red -fire of the sunrise on the snowy peaks.” - -When he had gone, Hugh opened his window. The night air was icily -pure; it smelled of snow and pines. He breathed it quietly for a time. -Against the dark blue of the higher heavens rose the black blue of -mountain pinnacles. In savage majesty they soared among the stars. He -heard the continuous roar of the little waterfall. - -Then a melancholy born of the absolute solitude came over him. He -longed for the lights of the city, the comfort and security of the -streets of Paris. Why Paris? Perhaps because Margot was there. He -thought of her with a sudden poignant sense of desire. He was tired of -adventures and unrest. He wanted to settle down ... a placid life ... -always. Margot would shield him from the worries of every day, be like -a buffer, make him a home. She was that sort. He didn’t want a wife he -had to fuss over; he wanted one who would fuss over him.... But it was -too late to think of Margot. She was marrying another man. He had lost -her.... In a profound mood of gloom and regret, he wearily undressed -and went to bed. - -He awoke with a curious sense of fear, a strange stiffening of the -scalp. Surely he heard the sound of voices. He sat up with beating -heart and listened. Yes, voices and the sound of feet crushing through -the crisp snow.... With a leap he was at the window. - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -HUNTED DOWN - - -His worst fears were realized. - -In the eerie half-light he saw four black shadows draw near to the -house and a knock at the door followed. He heard Pascal grumbling as he -got out of bed. Then the inn-keeper’s voice: - -“Who is it?” - -The answer came in the harsh metallic voice he knew so well. - -“Travellers from Vizzavona. Open quickly. We are cold.” - -Pascal was unbolting the door. - -“Pardon, gentlemen. I did not expect guests at so late an hour. Please -to enter.” - -He heard them stumbling into the big room with the fire, then again -that grating voice. - -“Ah! you have another guest?” - -“Yes, a young man who arrived this evening.” - -“These are his clothes, no doubt, drying by the fire?” - -“Yes, he was very wet.” - -“Then he is sleeping, perhaps. We must not make a noise.” - -“Yes, he was very tired. He went to bed early, directly after supper. -That makes me think.... Do the messieurs want anything to eat?” - -“No, we have supped. We are tired, however. We would sleep. What rooms -have you?” - -“There are three upstairs, but the young gentleman has the middle one. -I can give you gentlemen the others.” - -“Good. You will take one, Castelli; I the other. The two men can sleep -here by the fire. Now, patron, if you have some good brandy, a drop -might not be amiss.” - -Hugh had heard enough. He crept back hastily, locking his door. He must -escape from this house, and quickly. He began to dress in the clothes -Pascal had given him. With a groan he remembered that he had left his -revolver in the pocket of his coat. Too bad, that! - -Fully dressed, he went to the door and listened again. Doctor Bergius -and Castelli were being shown upstairs to their rooms, one on each side -of his own. He heard them enter, then Pascal descend the stairs again. -All was quiet. - -He opened the window very softly and peered out. It was a drop to the -ground of about twenty-five feet. He dared not risk the fall. Then his -heart leaped. At the side of the window was a rain pipe running from -the roof to the ground. It would be easy to slide down that. He did not -know their plans, but they would wait, no doubt, until Pascal had gone -to bed before attempting anything. - -A long silence. - -Now there were stealthy steps in the corridor and whispering. With his -ear to the door he listened. His hearing was unnaturally acute, and he -distinctly heard Castelli: - -“Gamba, where is Golaz?” - -“Waiting by the door, Master.” - -“Right. Our man is trapped. He can’t escape this time. You and Golaz -watch to see he doesn’t descend by the window. If the inn-keeper -interferes, settle him. And mind, we must take the Englishman alive. No -reckless shooting. After we’ve got what we want out of him, you can do -as you please. Now go.” - -Again a long silence. - -Hugh thought, “They suppose I am asleep. Soon they will try my door.” - -He waited. Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour passed. Everything was -still. One might have thought that all the house slept.... Some one was -gently trying the handle of his door, turning it softly first one way -and then the other. He heard a harsh whisper: “Locked.” - -Again he heard the grating voice of the doctor. “I thought so. Well, -there’s nothing for it but violence. Put your pistol to the lock and -burst it.” - -_Crash!_ In the silence of the house the explosion seemed terrific. -There was a splintering of wood and the lock was torn from its fixings. -But the bolt still held, and though Castelli shook and hammered on the -door it would not open. Again he heard the voice of Doctor Bergius. - -“Brace yourself against the wall of the corridor. Come, we’ll both put -our strength into it.” - -Hugh heard the door strain, crack. It was stout and still held. But it -could not last long. In another minute it would give way. He ran to the -window and leaned out. Then he drew in sharply, for from the darkness -two bullets shattered the pane. Golaz and Gamba were on watch down -there. No escape that way. - -He wheeled around, desperate. The door under the combined weight of -Castelli and the doctor was beginning to bulge, to crack. In another -minute they would be in the room. He was trapped, unarmed, helpless. He -was lost. - -Then suddenly the pressure on his door ceased. They had paused to -listen to what was going on below. The inn-keeper had jumped out of -bed and run into the kitchen. - -Hugh heard him cry: “What’s wrong! _Nom de Dieu!_ What’s the matter? -Ho! there, you two fellows!... Why, they’re gone. Ah! the door’s -open....” - -Daring another shot Hugh leaned from the window. Golaz had taken up a -position behind the door and as the inn-keeper came out, threw his arms -around him. In that bear hug of a grip, Pascal was as helpless as a -child. He gave one great, hoarse cry, then Gamba had him by the throat. - -The three were locked in a silent, deadly struggle. All at once Hugh -heard again the ominous crack of the breaking door. Now was his time, -now or never. He would slip down the pipe and then ... leave the rest -to luck. As he climbed out on the sill of the window he heard a cry of -alarm. Golaz and Gamba had seen him. They still gripped the inn-keeper. -When he slipped to the foot of the pipe he, too, would be seized and -held. No, that way was madness. What to do then? - -There was another way ... up! The eaves of the house were only a few -feet above his window. That was it, the roof. - -So instead of slipping down the iron pipe, he wriggled upward. He -clutched the gutter that collected the rain. It held and with a fierce -jerk he pulled himself level. A second later he was sprawling on the -slope of the roof. - -From below came a howl of baffled rage. Golaz and Gamba were cursing -both him and themselves. At the same instant Castelli and the doctor -burst into the room. Soon came the voice of Doctor Bergius from the -window. - -“Where is he? Have you seen him?” - -“Yes, the roof. He’s on the roof.” - -“Oh, you fools, you cursed fools! Why did you let him get away again? -What have you got there?” - -“The inn-keeper. He tried to interfere.” - -“Seems to me he’s lying suspiciously still. Hold on, I’m coming down.” - -There was a pause; then again the voice of the doctor. “Gamba, you -little devil, the man’s dead!” - -“Yes, Master,” said Gamba humbly, “I’m afraid I squeezed a little too -hard.” - -“Bah! well, too late now. Take the body and throw it into the stream at -the back. People will think he was drowned. Where’s the Englishman?” - -“One can’t see him. The angle of the house hides him. But he’s up there -all right.” - -“Very well. You two men dispose of that body; Castelli, you run back a -bit and see if you can see him.” - -Hugh realized that, where he lay flat on the snow-covered roof, he was -an easy mark. A belated moon gleaming through the cloud-fleece, would -direct their aim. On the other side of the house was darkness and the -protection of the stream. He must gain that. Keeping his feet in the -gutter he worked along the roof till he came to the end of it, then -gripping the slate edge, desperately he pulled himself up until he was -astride of the ridge. - -A shot whistled past him. That would never do. Castelli could pick -him off as he crouched low on the ridge. He allowed his body to slip -a little way down the side next to the stream. Thus hidden from them, -half embedded in the snow, he clutched desperately at the angle of the -ridge and waited. What would they do next? - -Everything was very quiet, a quiet full of menace. Beyond a doubt they -were carrying out some fresh scheme. The suspense was too great to be -borne; he must know at all costs what they were doing. With a great -effort he drew himself up and peered over. - -He saw a sight that filled him with terror and despair ... the head and -shoulders of Gamba, appearing over the edge of the roof. Stealthy and -catlike the little man was climbing with no apparent effort. Now he was -sliding like a monkey along the gutter, now he was drawing himself up -to the peak, now he was astride the ridge. Hugh stared into his black -vindictive eyes, saw his lips parted in that grin of incredible evil, -the revolver held ready in his hand. - -“Don’t shoot, Gamba,” he heard the doctor say from below. “Get him -alive. Make him come down.” - -Gamba bent over and seized Hugh by the arm; behind the pointed pistol, -his eyes glittered malignantly. - -“Come,” he hissed. - -With a sudden wrench Hugh freed himself from the hand that gripped him, -and as he did so, he felt himself sliding. He clutched desperately -at the angle of the roof, but in vain. The snow on which he lay was -slipping, slipping. Gamba clawed at him frantically. Too late! the -whole snow mass crashed down like a miniature avalanche. Helpless, -turning over in the descent, Hugh went with it, down, down over the -edge of the roof into the black depths below.... - -He felt himself rushing through space. His one agonizing thought was: -“When I stop falling what will I strike? Is this the end?” Then.... - -He plunged into deep water. Instinctively he broke the force of his -descent with his arms and legs; but even then he struck the rocky -bottom forcibly. He rose quickly to the surface. - -He realized that he was in the fish pool, swirling round and round. -He put out his hand and clutched at an object. Ugh! It was the dead -body of the inn-keeper. Horror and fear maddened him. With half a dozen -swift strokes, he had gained the opposite bank. He clutched hold of -some bushes and pulled himself out. - -The men had rushed around to the back of the house, and were firing -into the black pool. It was so dark that they did not see him as he -staggered up the rocky bank. He heard Doctor Bergius shouting in -violent anger: - -“Gamba, I’ll flay you for this. By God, I’ll kill you. He’s escaped us -again.” - -Yes, he was safe--at least for awhile. He stumbled through the darkness -of the forest, half crazed, walking like a blind man, fear and despair -urging him on. - -It seemed to him he must have walked for hours, over rocks, through -bush, knee deep in streams, always climbing. His hands and feet were -torn and bleeding. At length he could go no further.... - -Some one was shaking him, telling him to get up. Reluctantly he roused. -Above him were a pair of grim, scornful eyes and a face stern as Fate. - -Over the hills the dawn was breaking. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -THE OUTLAW - - -1. - -“Who are you?” - -The voice that addressed Hugh was rich and imperious. - -Hugh looked at the strange face with startled eyes. “A hunted man,” he -answered. - -The other laughed. “I, too, am a hunted man. Come, you are faint with -cold and fatigue. I will give you shelter.” - -Hugh clutched his arm. “Don’t let them get me,” he said with a shudder. - -The other laughed scornfully. “Don’t be afraid. With me you will be -safe. Come.” - -He lifted Hugh to his feet, and, half supporting him, led the way up -the rocky path. - -“You see the door of my home?” - -“No, I see nothing.” - -“Yonder black hole in the mountain side. That is my front entrance. -Incidentally there is a back one for my private use, and only known to -myself. But maybe you have heard of me. I am Angelo Rocco.” - -Hugh started. - -“The ... ah! Celebrity?” - -The man laughed again. - -“Do not be afraid. You are no enemy of mine, and he who is not my enemy -is my friend. Come, you shall bear witness to a bandit’s hospitality.” - -They reached the mouth of the cave. - -“See,” said Rocco, “from here I can overlook the whole mountain side. -If twenty men came to take me, I could shoot them all down before they -reached the door. If fifty came I could shoot half, and the other -half would look for me in vain. But then no one troubles me. It is -understood if I keep out of the way they will leave me alone.” - -They crossed the threshold of the cave. For some distance it was well -lighted by the circular entrance. Blankets were hung over the walls; -furs were strewn on the floor. A hammock swung from staples fixed in -the rock. On either side were two long _banquettes_ of oak, and near -one of them a black cupboard, on the door of which hung a large ivory -crucifix. Rocco threw open one of the _banquettes_. - -“Look! there are some dry clothes. Change into them. Wrap some of these -blankets about you, and lie down. I will make a fire and give you some -hot soup.” - -Hugh did as he was told. He had almost dropped off to sleep when Rocco -brought him a big bowl of soup. It was rich and meaty. After he had -drunk it, he could no longer fight against his drowsiness and closing -his eyes, slept as he had never done before. - - -2. - -He awakened gradually, and with a growing sense of tranquillity. The -cave was brightening in the light of another dawn. Outlined against the -sky and framed in the circle of the doorway he saw the superb figure of -Angelo Rocco. The bandit turned and greeted him. - -“A moment ago,” he said, “I saw a shadow moving at the edge of the pine -wood. Ha! there it is again.” - -He snatched up a rifle and fired. - -“There! that will frighten him, whoever he is. If he means no harm, -let him come out into the open. Now I will give you some breakfast. My -friends keep me supplied with food from the city. I shoot game, but -once in a while it is good to eat civilized food.” - -They had a breakfast of coffee, bacon and bread. Afterwards they -smoked, and Rocco talked. Hugh watched him in admiration. Never had he -seen such a perfect man. He was tall, strong and springy as a panther. -He had ebony black hair, and a clipped beard and moustache, which did -not conceal the strength and character of his face. His fine lips had a -haughty twist and his dark eyes were full of stormy fire. He moved with -grace, carrying himself like a king. - -“You must stay here for some days,” he told Hugh. “Rest your nerves. I -am glad of a guest. With me you will be safe.” - -He rose, looked keenly over the mountain side, then came slowly back. - -“I see no more shadows. For a time at least we have driven off your -wolves. Who are they?” - -Hugh gave an account of the fight at the inn. When he came to the death -of Pascal, Rocco’s face grew dark. - -“They killed him, the devils! My good friend, Père Pascal. And who is -there then to avenge him? You know, here in Corsica, a life must pay -for a life. I had no wish to kill another man. There has been too much -killing. But my friend ... my old friend ... well, we will see.” - -After that Rocco grew restless. He strode up and down the cave, -constantly stopping at the door to stare out. At last he said to Hugh: - -“If you do not mind being alone, I will go down into the forest. If any -one should come, you must retreat by the passage to the left. In case -you want to sleep I will show you where you will be safe.” - -A jut of rock nearly closed the passage, but further on it opened out -again. At the end of fifty yards it appeared to come to a stop. Rocco -held up the light he carried, and showed Hugh a cleft high up in the -rock. It was lined with furs and formed a kind of natural bunk. - -“Here is where I sleep when the gendarmes are in the neighbourhood. You -will be safe here. If you should be further pursued, you have only to -roll over that boulder at the far end. Under it you will find a hole -down which you can lower yourself. It leads to a subterranean gallery -which has many branches and where no one can find you. Only be careful -not to get lost. And the boulder too,--I fear it may be heavy for you -to move. But I do not expect to be long absent. In the meantime I do -not think any one will trouble you.” - - -3. - -As he descended the mountain, the bandit kept well under cover. Hugh -watched him till he disappeared into the forest. From the mouth of the -cave a magnificent panorama outspread. The mountains looked as if they -had been hacked out by an angry god. Their flanks were naked. Moving -cloud masses scarfed them for a moment, only to be rent aside again, -and reveal new vistas of desolation. The vast abyss of the valley was -packed with pines. - -The time passed slowly and Rocco seemed to be long in returning. At -noon Hugh relit the fire and cooked himself some food. He found that -one of the _banquettes_ was stored with provisions, the other with -clothes. Rocco had things well arranged. - -When he had finished eating, he let the little fire go out, and sat -gazing over the valley, dreaming away the hours.... Margot would -be married on the seventeenth, that day week. The thought made him -miserable. He felt he would give anything to prevent the marriage. -He tried to analyze his feelings. He wanted her and yet he did not -want her. He wanted her because another man wanted her; or rather, -while he didn’t want her himself, he did not want any one else to get -her,--a most dog-in-the-mangerish feeling. He told himself that it had -all worked out for the best. She would probably be happier with the -other man. He envied him. Margot was a jewel of a girl, sweet, gentle, -devoted. She would make a ripping little wife. He was sorry he did not -love her, at least not in the mad, passionate way that mattered. He -just couldn’t care for people in that crazy, headlong fashion. He was a -cool, unsentimental sort of a chap. Or was he, really?... - -Heigh ho! the time was long. What was keeping Rocco? What a pity -about that man, condemned to pass the rest of his life in a prison -of infinite earth and sky. He looked around at the few primitive -comforts of the cave. There were some books, all on political economy -or sociology. Yes, a great pity! A man of force and ability sacrificed -because of a youthful excess of ardour. His friends said that Rocco had -fired in self-defence; but the friends of the dead man were in power. -All at once Hugh had an idea, a fantastic idea. Yes, that was what he -would do.... - -Heigh ho! again. The time was infernally long. It must be about three -in the afternoon. How still the mountain side was. Nothing moved. -Suppose he slept a little! Taking a blanket, he crawled along the dark -passage to the left, climbed up into the cleft and curled snugly in his -blanket. Heigh ho!... - - -4. - -He was awakened from a sound sleep by hearing some one moving in the -outer part of the cave. The bandit must be wondering what had become of -him. He was about to jump down from his perch and greet Rocco when the -thought came to him: - -“Perhaps it is not he after all. I must be cautious.” - -He crawled along the narrow passage, and peered around the shoulder of -rock that blocked its entrance. Then he drew a deep, gasping breath, -for this is what he saw: - -Seated on one of the oak _banquettes_ was Doctor Bergius. He was -leaning forward in an attitude of fatigue; his eyes--so wide open that -their yellow pupils looked like rings--glared at the rock behind which -Hugh was peering. Hugh thought himself discovered; fear paralyzed him. -From the darkness he stared back at the doctor. But it was evident the -doctor did not see him, did not see anything in fact. His stare was -that of abstraction; his mouth had the twist of a savage beast; his -face was set in an expression of rage and despair. - -Then Hugh saw Castelli, at the mouth of the cave, looking anxiously -down the mountain side. He, too, looked weary and desperate. The third -of the party was Gamba. Gamba alone showed no sign of hardship. The -little man, compact of all that was fierce and tenacious, was hunting -round the cave like a nosing terrier. Hugh started to draw cautiously -back when suddenly he heard a hoarse shout from Doctor Bergius. - -“Castelli.” - -Castelli wheeled round sharply. - -“Well, doctor?” - -“Castelli, you and I have got to have a heart-to-heart talk. Here and -now is a good time. Castelli, you distrust me.” - -The Italian started, made a gesture of protest. The doctor strode up to -him. - -“Oh, I’ve noticed it for some time. The others, too. All of you -distrust me. If I thought there was anything in the nature of a -conspiracy between you, I’d blow you to hell this instant.” - -The doctor was glowering down at the Italian. With a savage gesture he -drew a revolver. - -Castelli looked at him coolly. - -“Go ahead, doctor,” he said. “As a matter of fact I don’t distrust you, -but I can’t answer for the other two. You must admit that things aren’t -very clear. You played all the other men false. You left them stranded -on the Italian shore without a _sou_ of the money. You brought it here -for us to make a divide. Then you told us you had lost it; that it had -been stolen from you by that fool of an Englishman in a manner you must -admit to be fantastic. Can you blame them if they think you want to -bilk them, too? Now, personally, I believe you; but if we don’t find -this Englishman and recover the money, I give you fair warning there -is likely to be trouble. It’s no use threatening me, doctor. Remember -we are three against one, and none of us very squeamish about taking -life.” - -“By God, it’s true, Castelli. I’ve been outwitted, and by a fool. Aye, -that’s what hurts. He must have spied on me at the hotel. I could -not take the bag about with me everywhere. He profited by an hour’s -absence, only an hour, to get possession of it. He’s got it, got it -all. He’s hidden it till he can come back safely and get it away. -That’s why we’ve got to find him, got to hunt him down. He mustn’t -leave the island. He’s here somewhere in these cursed wilds. He must -not escape us. We’ve got to get him, Castelli; and, when we do, I’ll -torture him till he tells; then kill him afterwards with my own hands. -Ha! that will be the happiest moment in my life,--when I kill the dog.” - -“Well,” said Castelli, “we haven’t got him yet! There’s no use wasting -time; it’s evident he’s not here.” - -“Leave no stone unturned. It was just a chance that he might have taken -refuge with this Rocco. Where is the fellow? He might at least be able -to give us some information.” - -“Gone off hunting probably. Still he’s been here not so long ago. See, -the ashes of his fire are still hot.” - -“We may as well go. We’ve no time to spare. Stay! as we are here, we -might as well search the place. There are three passages. I’ll take the -centre one; Gamba can search the one to the right, while you examine -the one to the left. Got an electric torch?” - -“No, matches.” - -“All right. Go ahead.” - -Feeling his way along the wall, Hugh ran back into the darkness. There -was not a moment to lose; Castelli was almost in the passage. He must -escape. Ah! the boulder that concealed the secret exit! He reached it -and tried to move it. In vain! Again he tried with all his strength. -He was able to budge it only a few inches. Castelli was already at -the opening. No, he could not shift this cursed boulder; he would be -caught like a rat in a hole! Castelli was in the passage now, trying to -light a match. As Hugh flung himself flat against the rocky wall, his -uplifted hands came in contact with the ledge of the cleft where he had -been sleeping. Quick as thought he drew himself up and shrank back till -he was wedged into the rock itself. - -Castelli was fumbling and stumbling. He was striking a fresh match -every minute and swearing audibly. Hugh saw a faint glow, then -darkness, then the glow again. Castelli did not like his job; but he -was taking no chances. Nearer and nearer he drew. Now he had come to -the end of the passage, just below Hugh’s hiding place. - -“_Sapristi!_ My last match,” Castelli muttered. He struck it, holding -it high above his head, and examined the opposite wall. The light just -came to the ledge within a foot of Hugh’s face. Then Hugh did something -for which he was proud as long as he lived. Reaching forward, he softly -blew out the light. - -He heard Castelli curse; but the Italian had his back to him and did -not realize where the draft had come from. - -“There! that’s out,” he exclaimed. “But there’s nothing here. I’m off.” - -Hugh breathed freely again as he heard Castelli groping his way out. -He could scarcely realize his luck. On such small things human destiny -often turns. Had Castelli possessed another match he would surely have -been discovered. He raised himself, confident of his safety, and -listened. He heard the distant voice of the doctor. - -“No sign of any one. The passages Gamba and I examined dwindled away in -the rock.” - -“Mine, too, came to an end,” said Castelli. “I felt the walls all -round. Not even a rat-hole.” - -Then the voices ceased and Hugh heard the men scrambling out of the -cave. - - -5. - -Darkness had fallen and still Rocco did not return. The cave-mouth was -a ring of velvety blue patterned with stars. The air was exquisitely -cold and pure. As Hugh cowered in the darkness he wrapped himself in -a blanket. The silence was breathless, acute. Staring up at the blue -circle of sky, he listened to the beating of his heart. Then suddenly, -noiselessly, a dark form loomed up between him and the stars. It was -Rocco. - -The bandit walked like one very weary. He threw himself down and lit a -cigarette. After he had drunk the soup Hugh heated for him, he drew a -deep sigh. - -“You have been long,” commented Hugh. - -“Yes,” said Rocco; “I have done much, seen much, learned much. -Incidentally I have killed a man.” - -Hugh gazed at Rocco in silence. After a deliberate pause the bandit -went on: - -“Yes, I killed him, or was the means of his meeting his death. I will -tell you.” - -Through the mouth of the cave came the pure air perfumed with pines. -Hugh wrapped his blanket around him and settled down to listen. In the -darkness he could see the glowing tip of a cigarette, and from behind -it hear the roll of a rich voice. - -“When I left you,” said the voice, “I went to the inn. I found the -body of poor Pascal in the pool. There was a bullet wound in the head. -They must have struck him when they fired at you. However, that does -not matter. Pascal has an enemy. The crime will be put down to the -vendetta. A convenient institution, the vendetta; it covers a multitude -of sins.” - -There was a reflective pause. The cigarette glowed and faded; then the -sonorous voice went on: - -“I took my poor dead friend out of the water and carried him into the -kitchen of the inn. I laid him on the table, straightened his limbs, -folded his hands over his breast, and put a crucifix between them. Then -I knelt down and said a prayer for the welfare of his soul....” - -The voice was silent for a little. The round mouth of the cave was -brightening, and the stars shrinking back affrighted. The voice grew -tense. - -“It was while I was praying that the man entered. He saw neither myself -nor the body, for the place was in darkness. He went over to where your -clothes were and began to search them, the pockets, the lining. It was -while he was doing this that I put a pistol to his head.” - -A deep laugh awoke the echoes of the cave. Into its circular mouth -crept the silver edge of the moon. - -“I never saw a man so scared. You should have seen him jump. I backed -him against the wall with his hands high in the air. I pointed to the -dead man. ‘You killed him,’ said I. He shook his head. ‘Then,’ I said, -‘you helped to kill him. Tell me, and I’ll give you a chance for life. -Otherwise I’ll shoot you where you stand.’ Then he told me that he had -seized and held Pascal while his comrade had strangled him. ‘So,’ I -said, ‘that was the way of it. Well, you are equally guilty, but you -shall have a chance for your life. Have you a knife?’” - -Rocco’s cigarette went out. He took his time to light another. The -velvet circle cut the moon in half. Hugh could see the face of Rocco -now, a pale, grim, tragic face. The bandit went on: - -“‘Yes, I have a knife,’ answered the man. ‘And can you use it?’ I -asked. ‘None better,’ said he. I marched him out of the place to the -clearing in front of the inn. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘look ... I throw away my -rifle, my pistol. Knife to knife we will fight it out. You for your -life; I to avenge my friend. Is it well?’ And he answered me; ‘It is -well.’” - -Rocco rose and stood before Hugh. The full round of the moon was framed -in the circle of the cave-mouth. It lit up the magnificent figure of -the bandit, as he went on: - -“The man was a brute, but he was brave. His eyes gleamed. I could -see in them the joy of the fight. He thought he had me. He drew a -long bladed knife. I drew mine. There in the forest we circled round, -watching each other like two cats. Suddenly he leaped. He was holding -his knife like a sword, point up to strike at the belly. I caught his -wrist as he stabbed. Then I dropped my own weapon. I reached round -him and forced his knife hand behind his back. He was strong; I never -wrestled with a stronger. We had a tough struggle; and they say there -is not in all Corsica my match for strength. Slowly, surely, I twisted -his knife hand behind him; then suddenly I tripped him up. He fell, -fell on the point of his own knife. It went right through his back and -stuck. He died quickly. You would not say I killed him, would you?” - -“No; without going into details, one might say he stabbed himself.” - -“That’s it. Damn details. I do not want to have another death at my -door. Well, that’s one of your enemies settled. And the other three.... -Oh, I know they came here. I was afraid they had got you; they are -hunting for you high and low. They have horses and spies. The stations -are all guarded; the country people warned. A dazzling price is set on -your head. So much I have heard from some wood-cutter friends of mine. -Alas! my young friend, I fear Corsica is too hot for you. The sooner -you are out of our brave little island the better.” - -“What must I do?” - -“There’s a boat sails for Marseilles to-morrow. You must catch it.” - -“But how?” - -“I will conduct you by a secret trail through the woods to the railway, -at a point only fifteen miles from Agaccio. After that you must take -your chance. See, I have brought your clothes from the inn. Now we will -both sleep, for we must be up at dawn; you have a long, hard day before -you. Believe me, I do not exaggerate the danger you are in. But I will -do my best for you, and I hope you will get through. Now sleep....” - -Hugh stretched himself out in his blanket; as he closed his eyes, -the moon sailed out of the pool of sky and the cave was plunged in -darkness. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - -THE LAST LAP - - -1. - -A little after daylight they left the cave and descended the mountain. -With Rocco leading they plunged into the first fringe of forest and by -a a little toe-trail travelled swiftly, keeping high above the valley. -Hugh saw nothing but the sombre pine trunks. They encountered no one -and the silence was profound. Rocco spoke little. Once or twice he -stopped to listen, then, seemingly satisfied, went on at the same rapid -pace. At noon they made a short halt for lunch. - -They were gradually descending. The sharpness of the mountain air had -given way to a softer temperature, the pines had yielded to oaks. At -first the oaks had been bare branched, then they were clothed with -leafage. Underfoot, too, the grey had given way to brown, the brown in -turn yielded to green. They were dropping through the temperate zone to -the warmer one of the coast. - -It was early afternoon when Rocco stopped and turned to Hugh. - -“This is as far as I dare go,” said he. “I think you can manage alone. -You must descend that path to the railway. You will then be about -fifteen miles above Agaccio. The road almost parallels the railway. You -will have to wait to travel it until the dusk, and should get to the -town about nine o’clock. The boat leaves at ten. If nothing happens -you should catch it. Have you any money?” - -Hugh had not thought of that. He searched his pockets. - -“No, they got all.” - -“Take this. I have no use for money as you can see.” - -He handed Hugh a note for five hundred francs. - -“Oh, I can’t accept that.” - -“Come now. Consider it a loan. You will repay me some day.” - -“All right. But let’s sit down and have a smoke before we separate.” - -They flung themselves under a tree and lit their cigarettes. - -“Look here,” said Hugh suddenly, “what would you do if you had a lot of -money, say three million francs.” - -Rocco showed his white teeth in a derisive smile. - -“What would I do with three million francs? Why, first of all I would -buy my pardon; then I would go into politics again. I would devote my -life to the welfare of Corsica. With all that money one could almost -change the destiny of our people. Ah! what a dream....” - -“I can tell you where you will find three million francs. You can take -or leave them as you choose. Only let it be a secret between us.” - -“That is understood,” said Rocco gravely. - -Hugh described where he had hidden the money, and sketched the events -which had led up to its coming into his possession. When he had -finished, Rocco sat in silence; his eyes brooded sombrely, his brows -below his lofty forehead knitted in thought. Hugh watched his face, -that fine Roman face so full of virility and courage. Beyond a doubt he -was stirred by ambitious dreams. Hugh was reminded of Napoleon. Might -this, too, not be a man of destiny? Suddenly Rocco roused himself. - -“I do not know. It needs reflection. It is too stupendous. I may take -the money and use it for my country; but if I do not, you will be sure -it will remain there untouched, perhaps forever.... But now you must be -on your way. You have far to go; see, already the sun is declining. You -must reach the Agaccio road before dusk, and then hurry, hurry to the -boat. And now good-bye. Good luck to you.” - -“Good-bye. I’ll never forget you.” - -The two men shook hands with a long grip. As Hugh turned on the -downward trail, he looked back at the tall, graceful figure of Rocco, -standing erect with folded arms. He waved his hand and Rocco took off -his broad-brimmed hat. Then a turn of the trail parted them forever. - - -2. - -It seemed to Hugh that he must have taken a wrong turning, for -the trail, which had been growing less and less defined, suddenly -disappeared. He was lost in the forest. Night was approaching. However, -by keeping on down the hill, he must eventually come to either the -road or the railway. He struck into a brisker pace, and, as there was -no underbrush, made rapid progress. He had been descending for perhaps -half an hour, when he heard a welcome sound, the whistle of a train. A -little further on the forest lifted, and the line of railway lay below -him. - -Less than a kilometre away, was the station; a freight train laden with -logs was drawing ponderously out. He decided to let it pass, before -continuing down the track. He waited impatiently. It had occurred to -him that perhaps he was exposing himself too much; and he was drawing -back when he heard a shout, ... a shout of fury and of triumph. - -With a heart leap of fear he recognized the three men who were hunting -him. What ghastly misfortune! They were on horseback too. Castelli, who -had been searching the hillside with a pair of powerful glasses, had -been the one to discover him. He handed the glasses to Doctor Bergius -and pointed to Hugh. At the same instant Gamba leaped from his horse, -crossed the railway track and launched in pursuit. - -For a dazed moment Hugh cursed his folly in thus exposing himself, then -turned and crashed back into the brush. It was very thick and he made -progress with difficulty. At this rate he would surely be caught. Then -to his joy, he came upon a little trail that descended and skirted the -railway. He raced along it. - -Once with panting lungs he stopped to listen. Was he being followed? -He heard a cracking of underbrush; Gamba had taken a short cut and was -appallingly near. Hugh tore on again. The trail broke from the forest -and skirted a bluff that overhung the railway, running along it for -about three hundred yards. As Hugh came out on this exposed stretch his -heart sank. Here at last he was surely trapped. To his right was the -steep cut to the railway, to the left the dense brush of the forest. -The only way of escape was straight ahead. If only he could make the -end of the pathway before Gamba reached him.... Well, he must do his -best. - -He had gone but a short distance when Gamba crashed into the open. The -little man was as fleet as a deer, as sure-footed as a goat. Hugh knew -he had no chance; but with the strength of despair he pounded on. -There was a roaring in his ears. The train! It was puffing and clanking -below him. Gamba was gaining on him fast. As he dashed on, Hugh noticed -that the bluff dipped, so that in one place it was only about ten feet -above the track. If he could make this gap, leap the track and reach -the gully that lay on the other side, there was a chance he might yet -escape. He made a desperate spurt to gain it. - -But he had reckoned without the train. As he got to the lowest point -of the cut, it was passing just below him. Again luck was against him. -He must wait until all those heavy wagons had lumbered by. Gamba was -only fifty yards behind him. Oh, that cursed train! Would it never -pass! But why wait? Why not ... ah! that was an idea. Desperate, maybe, -but he would stick at nothing.... Nerving himself he leaped, and fell -sprawling on the train. - -Fortunately he landed between two huge logs. He was bruised and shaken, -but he raised himself immediately. He had alighted about midway in the -line of wagons and there were three others still to pass the place from -which he had jumped. Now one had passed, then the second, then, just as -the third and last wagon was rumbling by Gamba reached the point. - -He hesitated, stared for a moment as if confused, then caught sight of -Hugh. He looked down at the last of the passing wagons. Was he, too, -going to jump? Hugh held his breath. No, Gamba could not make it. That -little moment of hesitation had been fatal; even as he crouched to -spring, the last wagon rolled from beneath him. - -Hugh heard a yell of anger. As if dumbfounded, Gamba stood on the point -of rock shaking his fists in impotent rage at the train carelessly -lumbering on its way. - -It grew dark quite suddenly. Hugh heard the puffing of the engine, and -saw a cloud of steam with an under-glow of orange. In spite of his -bruises he was feeling extravagantly happy. How lucky to have jumped -on the train! At the rate they were going he would be in Agaccio in an -hour. He breathed freely now. Freedom, safety lay ahead. Soon, very -soon, he would be on the boat for Marseilles. Then ho! for Paris.... -What was the matter? They were slowing up. - -Yes, they were stopping at a station. He hoped it would not be a long -stop. In any case he must be well ahead of his pursuers by now ... that -is, if they had not given up the pursuit. There in the dusk he lay -between the two great logs, and once more congratulated himself on his -escape. The air was rich with the perfume of pines, and the stars were -like glow-worms in the fields of heaven. - -Hark! What was that? He was horribly nervous. As he strained his ears, -he fancied he heard the distant beat of galloping hoofs. They came -nearer. He heard them drumming on the road that ran beside the railway -track. He might have known it; his enemies were racing to cut him off. -Had they arrived at the station before the train, they could have -easily captured him. What an escape! And now they were drawing closer. -When they got too close, he would take to the forest. Then the awful -nerve-racking hunt would begin again. - -In imagination he saw them, spurring and lashing their horses, -straining every nerve to reach the station before the train pulled out. -Would it never start? The drumming hoofs sounded very near indeed. The -engine-driver lighted his pipe, and made some joking remark to the -station master. At last, he turned and jumped up to his cab. Thank God! -the train was in motion. - -It cleared the station and gathered speed, plunging once more into -the forest. And not a moment too soon! Hugh looked back to see three -horsemen dash into the light, leap from their horses and run forward. -Too late!... - -A few miles further on the train came to another halt. Perhaps it was -imagination, but Hugh thought he heard again the sound of furious -galloping. He heaved a sigh of relief when once more they were under -way. - -Soon the lights of Agaccio appeared and the train slowed up. Hugh -jumped down and made for the harbour. With a thrill of joy he -boarded the steamer, and, going forward, mingled with a crowd of -garlic-flavoured Corsicans. - -When the boat cleared and blew her whistle it sounded to him like a -hoarse bellow of triumph. As she stood out to sea he looked back at -the lights of the harbour. He fancied he still heard the galloping of -exhausted horses, and the curses of three maddened men. Perhaps they -were there now, standing on the wharf, gazing in rage and despair after -the departing steamer. He hoped they were. - -“Corsica, farewell!” he cried. “As long as I live I’ll never set foot -on your shores again. I’m free, free once more. And now for Paris ... -Margot....” - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - -MARGOT - - -How strange is the romance of destiny! Four nights before he had lain -in a cave in the hinterland of Corsica, listening to a brigand’s tale -of blood, and now, behold, he was in Paris, walking the Boulevard -Montparnasse, and searching for a certain number. - -He found it, an old house sandwiched between two modern ones. Looking -up to its mansarded roof he saw a window alight, a window with a small -balcony. That must be her room. He had heard her speak of it so often, -her “Mansard of Dreams” as she called it. His heart beat excitedly; -then suddenly he saw a shadow on the blind. Yes, it was her shadow, -Margot’s. Should he go up? He thought not. It was too late. She was -probably very busy, preparing for the morrow, her marriage morn. No, he -would not bother her to-night. - -While he was thus arguing with himself, his feet were carrying him to -the door. A fat concierge was giving a Pekinese spaniel an airing. -Suddenly he heard himself asking. - -“Does Mademoiselle Leblanc live here?” - -“Yes, monsieur. Fifth floor. Door to the right.” - -It sounded like an invitation to go up, and he accepted it. As he -mounted the broken stairs, his heart beat faster. Very silly this! Why -should making a call on her so excite him? It was hard to believe that -she was there. It seemed years since he had seen her,--far back in a -somewhat uncertain past. - -He found himself at the door, knocking. How his confounded heart was -knocking too! _Damn!_ He could hear her moving about inside. Perhaps -she thought it was some one else. Perhaps when she saw it was he, she -would be disappointed. She was taking a long time to open the door. He -felt a great longing come over him, a great tenderness. He would take -her in his arms, kiss her, overwhelm her with passionate caresses. - -He did none of these things. When the door opened, he was the -punctilious, rather cold, young man she had always known. - -“Good evening,” he said politely. - -“_You!_” - -She stood staring at him; her blue eyes big in her pale face; her -hands up to her heart as if to still its tumult. She wore a loose -black _peignoir_ that showed off by contrast the pearly whiteness of -her skin. Against the background of her pale gold hair her face was -delicately sweet. For the hundredth time she reminded him of a lily. - -“It is, indeed, you?” - -She took both his hands and pulled him gently into the room. She had -pinned up her hair rather hastily, and it came tumbling about her. As -she raised her hands again to pile it about her head, he stopped her. - -“No, leave it like that. It was like that the first time I saw you. I -will always think of you that way.” - -She let it fall, a shimmering cape around her. - -“I’m sorry,” she said faintly, “to receive you in this poor shabby -room. Please sit down on that chair. It’s my only one.” - -He took it. She herself sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him. - -“I hurried to get here,” he told her awkwardly. “I wanted to be present -at the ceremony,--even if only as a spectator in the background.” - -“What ceremony?” - -“Your wedding, to-morrow.” - -“Why, didn’t you know? I wrote to tell you I’d refused him.” - -“I didn’t get the letter. You refused him.... Why?” - -“I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t care enough for him. I don’t think -shall ever marry.” - -“And what are you doing now?” - -“Working,--with Jeanne. We are taking a shop. I thought it was she when -you knocked.” - -“Are you happy?” - -“Yes, happier than I have ever been in my life.” - -“And I am more miserable.” - -“You! Why?” - -“Because ... I’m lonely. Look here, Margot, I want you. I only realized -how much I needed you after you went away--how much you mean to me. I -say, Margot, I suppose I’m a stiff, cold sort of a chap. I can’t do the -sentimental stuff. I can’t make pretty speeches, but I really do care -for you.” - -“As a sister?” - -“No, an awful lot more than that! I can’t do without you, dear. I know -it now. I knew it the moment I’d thought I’d lost you. Don’t tell me -I’ve lost you, Margot.” - -He leaned forward, staring anxiously into her eyes. She sat quite -still, her breath coming fast. - -“Marry _me_, Margot,” he faltered, “Me!” - -She seemed made of ice. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. - -“Not at all, Margot. Believe me, I’m not kind. I’m humble. I’m -pleading. I’ll get down on my knees if you like.” - -“No, please don’t.” - -“Look here....” He suddenly leaned forward. He took a handful of her -shining hair and twisted it into a great golden rope, then wound it -around her white throat. - -“Margot,” he said savagely, “if you don’t say yes, I’ll strangle you -right here. Say yes.” - -“Is it to save my life I must say yes?” - -“Your life--and mine.” - -“Well, if it’s to save yours, too.... Yes!” - -The tension was over. He rose. He was radiant. He laughed. - -“I’ll see the British Consul to-morrow; and we’ll get hitched up in a -few days. Now I’m going. I want to be alone, to realize my happiness, -to sing to the stars. I want to celebrate, to get drunk. Margot, may I -get drunk to-night?” - -“What!” - -“With joy I mean. I want to sit in a café by myself and let my -happiness soak in gradually. I want to smile like an idiot over a café -crême and have people look at me twice, and say, ‘_Mais ... il est fou, -ce gars la_....’ I want to laugh loudly at the moon, and dance the -can-can by the Carpeaux fountain. Oh Margot, Margot....” - -Down in the street a passing _sergent de ville_ who happened to look up -at the lighted mansard window, saw two separate shadows on the blind. -The masculine shadow reached out to the feminine one, then the two -shadows became one. - -“_Ah! Ces amoureux!_” he remarked with a shrug as he went on his way. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - -AND LAST - - -A year later Hugh sat at his desk, reading the following letter: - - MY DEAR CHAP: - - I wrote to you in Menton, and the letter came back. But the other day - a man in the office saw you in Paris and gave me your address. He - also gave me a very good account of you; I am glad, for I have often - felt anxious about you. I hope now that you have again taken up the - burden of the wage-earner, you are not finding it too heavy. I’ve - become a professional ink-slinger. You remember me as a dilettante, - a trifler. I wrote whimsical essays; I cultivated an urbane humour. - Then one day in a fantastic mood I started a burlesque of the German - spy novel. I showed it to a bloated publisher who refused to publish - it as a burlesque, but suggested that it would go as a serious - effort. He thought the public would take it that way. The public did. - - So now behold me, a popular author, a six shilling shocker to my - credit, another half-done, and many more in my mental incubator. - - Of course, on the strength of my success I resigned from Gummage & - Meek. We had saved a few thousand pounds, so if literature proves - more of a staff than a crutch, we won’t be altogether on the rocks. - Better still, a preposterously rich bachelor brother of my wife’s has - promised to see the two boys through school and college. In short, - I find at last my dream realized. I am free to cultivate my literary - cail-yaird. - - I want now to find some quiet place where I can live in a leisurely - way, polish my gems, and generally lead a pleasant, tolerant, - contemplative life. Do you, with your knowledge of the south - of France, know of such a place? The exchange rate now is so - advantageous. - - Please rub a little liniment on your strong right arm, grip your pen - with intense determination, and favour me with a few lines. - - Sincerely, - - ARTHUR AINGER. - -Hugh looked round the shabby but comfortable room he called his den. -There was a roll-top desk, crimson-curtained book shelves, a big easy -chair by the window, many unframed canvases on the walls. His eyes -rested on each article with loving satisfaction. - -“Good old chap,” he said, “I’ll answer his letter right away.” - -So he sat down at his desk and began: - - DEAR MR. AINGER: - - I am more than ashamed that I have never written to you; but so - many things have happened. To begin with I have a modest apartment - near the Luxemburg Gardens. I was married a year ago. My wife’s a - jolly good sort. You’d like her. I intended after my marriage to - get work of some kind, but the unexpected happened. It seems I had - a maternal grandmother living in Monaco. She had quarrelled with my - mother; and though she gave consent to the marriage she refused to - be reconciled. When she died it was found she had left everything to - me. They had some trouble in finding me, but through the old chap who - brought me up, they eventually did. - - I now find myself the owner of a property in the Condamine that nets - me twelve thousand francs a year, enough for two quiet people to jog - along on quite comfortably. After all, I’ve come to the conclusion - I’m one of those simple souls who want to slip through life with as - little trouble as possible to themselves and to every one else. - - My hobbies are cars and painting. I am the proud possessor of - a little Buggatti in which I whiz the wife out to Barbizon - occasionally. Otherwise I attend the Ecole des Beaux Arts and am - doing quite well. In time I hope I’ll make an averagely good artist, - and occasionally sell a _croute_. - - I am so glad to hear of your success. The sort of books you write are - the sort I like. But then I am not exacting, and read to take my mind - off the monotony of existence. Sometimes, you know, on a wet day when - one can’t paint and there’s no billiard table, a good yarn’s not a - bad thing to pass the time. I imagine there’s a whole lot like me. - - By the way, you speak of finding a quiet corner where you can hole up - and live cheaply. I have a little cottage at Villefranche which I can - offer you. There’s not much in the way of furniture, but you can stay - there as long as you like and what with the produce of a big garden - and the fish you can catch, the cost of life is reduced to a minimum. - - Now don’t refuse.... - -Hugh had got this far when Margot entered. He handed her his letter to -read. - -“Why,” she said indignantly, “you’ve left out the most important thing -of all.” - -“Oh, yes, I quite forgot about that.” - -“Forgot! Listen. The precious little darling! He’s crying for me now.” - -“Yes, his lungs are better than his looks.” - -“I like that. Everybody says he’s the image of you. Now, I must run.” - -“All right. I’ll put him in the postscript.” - -Hugh added a few more words as he listened to the subsiding wails of -his son and heir. Then throwing himself in his easy chair with a laugh -of utter happiness he lit his pipe. - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POISONED PARADISE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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