THE SECRET TELEGRAPH.

The number of cards required in the game of Piquet is thirty-two; now all these thirty-two cards, may, by this system, be pointed out by twelve signals, that is to say, eight for the value of the cards, and four for the suits.

At Écarté, the number of signals is still less, as it is only requisite to designate the numbers.

But to make these signals, it is not necessary, as stated by some authors, to use any exaggerated signs, such as to cough, sneeze, blow the nose, or beat a tattoo on the table. They must have a very low estimate of the Greek, if they suppose him capable of these palpable evolutions.

No; the modern Greek would be ashamed of such childish performances. Unfortunately for the dupes, the signals he makes, can only be seen and recognised by his accomplice.

Of this, my readers will be able to judge for themselves, by the following explanatory table:—

If the confederate looks at—

1. His associate, he meansA king.
2. The cards of his adversaryA queen.
3. The stakesA knave.
4. The opposite sideAn ace.

And at the same time that he tells the card, he also tells the colour, by the following signs:

1. The mouth slightly openA heart.
2. The mouth shutA diamond.
3. The upper lip slightly projecting over the underA club.
4. The under lip projecting beyond the upperA spade.

Thus, for instance, if the Greek wishes to tell, that the adversary holds the queen, the knave, and the ace of hearts; he looks successively, at the cards of his adversary, at the stakes, and on the opposite side, holding his mouth slightly open the whole time.

From this it will be seen, that the secret telegraph may be used for all games alike, and put in requisition wherever there are spectators. In fact, nothing is more easy at piquet, than to indicate by the aid of these signals, when you are to take in cards, and when to refuse.

I have only thought it necessary, to give an example of some of the simplest and easiest signs; but I may add, that some sharpers have a large, and varied catalogue of signals, to designate different things, as circumstances require.

This secret telegraph is so nearly imperceptible, that it is difficult to describe, and quite impossible to detect.

The Greek, who is playing, is careful not to win always. After three or four runs of luck, he loses and leaves the table, according to the instructions conveyed by his confederate. This is called "The Retreat."

To cover any losses incurred by this move, the accomplice has taken care to double his bets, and thus to reimburse themselves for their voluntary sacrifice.

Andréas and his friend were, moreover, adepts in every kind of sleight of hand trick, which, in many instances, they rendered still more advantageous, by performing what they termed "Coups en duplicata."

Thus, for example, if they were together at the same bouillotte table, they pretended not to be acquainted with one another, and even looked at each other with cool indifference; thus they could, whilst playing, very well manage to cheat, without exciting suspicion.

Instead of each cheating to win for himself, as might be supposed, they artfully contrived that the one who had the deal, and held the cards, should have bad cards and lose, whilst his confederate had all the luck, and won.

Sometimes, whilst giving all four kings to his accomplice, the other would also manage, to hand over the four queens to one of their victims, so as to raise his hopes, and induce him to double his stakes.

The villany of these rogues, therefore, could not be suspected, as the dealer never was the winner.

* * * * *

It was at Boulogne-sur-Mer, that Andréas and Raymond fixed themselves, to carry on their criminal performances. The people there, were rich and prosperous, and the harvest was abundant; though it was rather lessened by their gains being shared with Achille Chauvignac, the swindler par excellence of the place, who pointed out to them where the best game lay.

I must here pause to say a few words.

Hearing so much said of the enormous profits gained by swindlers, the reader will, naturally enough, conceive, that in the end, all Greeks must of necessity become millionaires and capitalists.

Far from it; notwithstanding their great profits, this reprobate class never prospers; on an average, out of every hundred Greeks, 99+1 die in want. The explanation is easy.

The recruits of "modern Greece," without exception, are men whose debauchery and prodigality have brought them to ruin.

Nothing would be more difficult, than to make a sharper thrifty and economical. They are all dissolute, prodigal, and ostentatious, according to their means.

These gentlemen, far from proportioning their expenses to their incomes, think not of the future, and live in extravagant luxury. They have horses, carriages, mistresses, &c., &c., and each one endeavours to outdo all his acquaintance in his expenditure.

It is hardly credible, but nevertheless true, that a sharper sometimes loses money at play. These men, blasés with the successes which they themselves have created, sometimes sigh for the excitement caused by real play. To obtain it, they rush to the roulette or rouge-et-noir table. In these two games the Greek finds retributive justice, and fortune takes a sure revenge for many former deeds of wrong.

[CHAPTER X.]
THE DOCTOR DUPED.

The false capitalist—The rogue is bled—More confederates arrive—A good hand—The fleecing—The doctor bled.

After quitting Boulogne, our two heroes intended to have gone into the South of France, but their plans were changed by a proposal made to them by Chauvignac.

There was a physician, living at St. Omer, who had an irresistible love of gambling, and the proposal made by Chauvignac was, that they should relieve him of some thousands of francs.

Chauvignac was to give them all the information necessary, and for this, he asked a third of the profits; only, as he was the intimate friend of the doctor, it was agreed that he must not appear in the affair.

The two performers in this drama, were not long in making their arrangements.

A few days afterwards, they arrived at the Hôtel d'Angleterre, the best in the place.

Andréas passed himself off for a rich Parisian capitalist, who, charmed by the beauty of the place, and the simple manners of the country, wished to purchase an estate in the neighbourhood. He was accompanied by a friend, who had come to give him his opinion and advice in this affair.

They made several excursions, visited all the places that were for sale, but ended by finding nothing on a scale grand enough to suit the would-be proprietor.

At the termination of their searches, the millionaire announced that he was going to return to the capital, and was on the point of departing, when he was suddenly taken very ill.

According to his wishes, the best medical man in the place, the friend of Chauvignac, was sent for.

On his arrival, the son of Esculapius began asking various questions, to find out what was the nature of his patient's malady.

"Ah! Sir," replied Andréas in a mournful voice, "I cannot tell you what has caused this illness, which compels me to keep my bed; all I know is, that I suffer horribly in my head. I have unhappily every reason to fear, from the symptoms, a return of a brain fever, of which I have already had several attacks."

"Calm yourself," said the doctor, "we will try and ward off the evil, this time, by bleeding you copiously."

"Do so, if you please," responded the rascal, "I place myself in your hands."

Andréas was accordingly bled, and soon afterwards declared he already felt better.

"I will come again, and see you to-morrow," said the doctor, on taking leave of the sham invalid.

"Oh! pray come back again to-day, for I feel I require incessant watching and care."

The doctor promised, and returned in fact some hours later.

He felt the pulse of the patient, and found it still so high, that he recommended a severe regimen, and the most absolute quiet and repose.

No sooner was the doctor gone, than Andréas proceeded to take off a ligature, which he had bound round his arm to increase the beating of his pulse, and, whilst waiting for the return of his victim, made a hearty meal.

Several days passed in this manner, during which, Raymond never quitted the bedside of his friend; he was as devoted as a Sister of Charity. It was thought advisable under such serious circumstances, to send for two other members of the family, who were introduced to the doctor as nephews of the sick man, but who were, in reality, nothing more nor less than two sharpers, who were brought from Paris to suit the purposes of the two schemers, and were paid ten francs a day for their services.

Their business was, to second and assist the manœuvres of their master and chief.

The severity of the attack was overcome, and Andréas appeared to be approaching convalescence.

To amuse the invalid, his two soi-disant nephews, and his friend, used to play at cards, at a table placed close beside his bed.

The game was animated, and the gold coins were rolling about on the floor. They were so rich in this family!

"I say, doctor," exclaimed Andréas one evening, "I think a game of cards would do me good, and go far to restore me. You have a lucky face; will you do me the kindness to hold a hand of cards at écarté for me? I stake ten napoleons."

The doctor, to oblige his patient, as well as to enjoy his favourite amusement, hastened to comply.

He was most fortunate in the cards he held; he won six consecutive times, and placed sixty napoleons in the hands of his patient. "I am most happy," added he, "in having so successfully performed the mission you confided to me, but whether it is your good luck, or mine, that has been the cause of it, I cannot tell."

"Good Heavens! Dear doctor," exclaimed Andréas, "the only way to be certain of this, is to play for yourself; I will bet on you, as I believe you to be the lucky man."

The doctor did not require to be asked twice; he played, and again had luck beyond belief. In fact, in a short time he had won a hundred napoleons (£80).

"You certainly bring me luck," said Andréas to his partner; "but I have had enough for this evening; I am tired and want repose."

"We hope that these gentlemen will forgive us for winning and walking off with their money. To-morrow, if you like, we will play again, and, with your aid, I hope we shall clear out my two nephews, which will, perhaps, cure them for their passion for play. If you succeed, doctor, the cure will be one of the best you have ever made."

It was not philanthropy, but his immense luck, and love of gambling, which made the doctor keep his appointment.

He came the next evening at the usual hour, and found the nephews already there.

To fulfil his duties as physician, he felt the pulse of his patient, and found him so much better, that without more ado, he pronounced himself ready to begin their game.

The table was placed, as on the previous evening, close to the bedside of the patient, to enable him to join in the amusement.

In order to plunder the poor doctor more speedily, they allowed him at first to gain a few napoleons.

This voluntary loss is in the language of sharpers called the "bait," and allows them to double their stakes without causing suspicion, enabling them to gain their ends more easily and quickly.

As soon as the stakes rose, and the play was for nothing less than bank-notes, the luck immediately turned.

The doctor, hitherto so lucky, suddenly found himself losing everything. At the end of the evening, he was a loser to the extent of thirty thousand francs (1200l.).

All along it is easy to perceive, there had been but one victim. The losses of Andréas had been but imaginary, and were only assumed, to prevent suspicion on the part of his victim, and would of course be returned to him by his accomplices.

Having bled the doctor as far as they could venture to do (for he was not very wealthy), and prudence also preventing their proceeding further, in case the police might put a finish to the scheme, they thought it advisable to decamp.

The following morning, therefore, the invalid felt himself sufficiently reinstated in health to prosecute his long delayed journey, so, paying the doctor for his attendance, he quitted the town as quickly as possible.

[CHAPTER XI.]
THE PASTE RING.

The amateur of precious stones—What a beautiful diamond!—A sovereign cure—Ah! if I were a rogue—A false paste ring!—The game is played—The tell-tale stamp investigation—The wanderer by night—The mysterious tripot—The sharper caught in a trap—Recriminations—The message—The false commissary of police—The Rue de Jerusalem—Unexpected dénoûement.

It was some time after this, that our two heroes arrived at Lyons, and lost no time in making inquiries regarding the various clubs in that town, and the sort of people who were members of them. Amongst others, one club was particularly mentioned, in which most of the members were gamblers.

They heard that a gentleman named Béroli belonged to it, who was a great amateur in precious stones.

Béroli had a mania for making clever bargains, as he called them, which means, that he often obtained a fine stone cheap, from those who were not such great connoisseurs as himself.

Such transactions would be called cheating, but that in these days, it is quite allowable, if not honest, for buyers and sellers to try to take each other in. Do we not daily hear a man boast of having, by some deceit, obtained an article from a merchant at cost price, whilst, on the other hand, the vendor rubs his hands at having got rid of a loup de magasin, as a faulty article is called.

In some commercial houses, it is stated, that a premium is paid to the clerk, who disposes of the rococo articles to some credulous customer.

Be that as it may, Béroli's mania for precious stones, put it into the head of Andréas to play him a clever trick.

He requested Raymond to get himself introduced, and work his way into the club, of which Béroli was a member, whilst he (Andréas) went to Paris, to arrange the preliminaries of an affair, of which he at present refused to mention the details, until all was in readiness for his great coup. A fortnight afterwards, thanks to the secret influence of Raymond, Andréas, who had returned from Paris, was proposed and elected by the club, of which his comrade was already a member. The two Greeks were not supposed to know one another, so each was able to proceed with his work unsuspected.

Raymond ransacked the pockets of some rich proprietors, whilst his comrade contented himself, every evening, with playing a few innocent games at écarté with Béroli, whose acquaintance he had made.

The very first day, the amateur observed a magnificent ring on the finger of Andréas.

"What a splendid diamond you have there," said Béroli, with an accent of envy.

"Yes, it is," replied Andréas, carelessly, continuing his play. "Diamonds are trumps. I cut, and my turn-up card is worth nothing; you have the trick."

Béroli, meanwhile, never took his eyes off the precious stone, the dazzling lustre of which seemed to fascinate him.

Each day brought forth fresh expressions of admiration for the stone, to all of which, his opponent apparently remained insensible.

One evening, Béroli was determined to force a reply of some kind or other from Andréas.

"What did you pay for that stone?" said he.

"Are you serious in asking that question, do you really wish to know?"

"Quite serious."

"Then I must explain, that, if I have not before replied to your different exclamations of admiration, it was because I thought you were joking. Now that I know the contrary, I feel bound to tell you, that that superb diamond, which has dazzled you so much, is only paste."

"How do you mean—paste?" said Béroli, with an air of pique. "It is you that are joking."

"No; I assure you I am in earnest."

"Oh! nonsense; let me see it closer." Saying these words, Béroli took up the hand of Andréas, fixed his eyes on the ring, and kept turning it about to make it glitter.

"You may tell others that it is false, but there is no use in telling me so. I can assure you that your stone is a real diamond.

"Very well; I am glad to hear it," rejoined Andréas, feigning the greatest indifference. "Let me see, it is your turn to play."

The two players continued their game, but Béroli appeared distrait, and kept constantly looking at the ring. At length he could no longer restrain himself.

"So certain am I," exclaimed he, "that the stone is of the first water, that I shall be happy to purchase it, if you will let me."

"I will not sell it to you," replied Andréas.

"Why not?"

"Because, in the first place, I do not want to rob you of your money; and in the second, it is a family relic, which I do not wish to part with. One of my uncles left it to me, and he had it from his father. It has been in our family for a hundred years, and is called "the paste ring." I only wear it, because it is considered a charm against headaches, to which I am very subject."

"But if I offered you a good price?" persisted Béroli.

"If you offered me four times its value, I would not part with it."

"Suppose I offered you, not four times, but two or three hundred times, the value you set on the stone?"

Andréas cut short all further colloquy by continuing the game. "Diamonds," said he, "and I have what they call 'la fourchette.' I mark one."

As soon as the game was ended, Béroli, who was very tenacious of his reputation as a connoisseur in precious stones, returned to the charge.

"I am so sure of what I aver," continued he, "that I shall always be ready to bargain for your ring, whenever you wish to part with it."

"Ah! if I were a rogue," replied Tête d'Or, "I should part with my paste ring to you, to prove that you must not always be guided by your own judgment."

"Stay," said Béroli, "will you lend me your ring until to-morrow. To make quite sure, I will just show it to a jeweller of my acquaintance."

Andréas acceded to his request with a show of indifference, and they separated.

Béroli went off at once to his friend, to show him the jewel, and ask him the value of it.

The jeweller, after examining it for some time attentively, confirmed Béroli's opinion.

"This stone is of a most beautiful water," said he, "and I should consider it cheap if I got it for twelve thousand francs (480l.)."

The following day, Béroli advanced to Andréas with an air of triumph.

"My dear sir," said he, "I can now state with positive certainty, that your family has been in error for the last hundred years about the value of this ring. What you call paste, is a real diamond. I will give you six thousand francs for it."

To this offer Andréas made no reply.

They sat down to play, but during the game, the indefatigable Béroli incessantly returned to the charge, offering each time a higher price for the ring, to tempt his adversary, and finally made him an offer of nine thousand francs. To all of which Andréas remained silent, contenting himself by shaking his head each time in token of negative.

It was late, and the party was on the point of breaking up, when Béroli suddenly made up his mind.

"Stop," he exclaimed, at the same time placing ten bank-notes, of a thousand francs each, on the table. "This is my last offer. Say yes, and the bargain is struck."

"You are resolved to cheat yourself?"

"Yes, I am," replied the amateur, in a bantering tone, looking again intently on the ring, which he had kept on his finger throughout the evening.

"Well, if you insist on it, you shall have it; only allow me to take out from a secret recess the lock of hair of my worthy uncle, who has been the means of making me get ten thousand francs. I certainly did not anticipate this great good luck. See what it is to be a connoisseur. Here; here is your ring. Thanks."

Early the following day, Béroli again went to his friend the jeweller. "I've got that splendid diamond," said he, addressing him. "Look here; see how beautiful it is! I am sure, that whenever I wish to part with it, I shall always get more than what you offered me."

"Do you think so?" responded the jeweller, taking up the ring, to look more closely at it.

"Stay; what's this?" he exclaimed. "What's this you have brought to show me? This a diamond! why, it is nothing but paste!"

The trick was played, and had succeeded. Under pretence of taking out his uncle's hair, Andréas had cleverly changed the diamond ring, for a paste one precisely similar, which he had had made for the express purpose.

On the following day, the ingenious and clever thief was far away, out of reach of Béroli and all chance of redress.

* * * * *

"Those who are unacquainted with the perseverance and energy of Béroli," observed Raymond, in relating this anecdote to me, "may fancy that the diamond ring is lost to him for ever. Not so."

The amateur, after having been so cruelly deceived, took an oath that he would discover, and be revenged on, his enemy.

On examining the false ring, Béroli first made sure that it bore the goldsmith's mark, proving it to be of pure gold. This was not much consolation, still, it led him to suppose, that the real diamond ring must also, of course, bear the same stamp.

If, muttered Béroli to himself, the two rings have passed through the comptroller's hands, the stones are so large, and of such value, that it is next to impossible he did not remark them.

This simple reflection, was the first step towards the discovery of the real gem.

Furnished with a letter of introduction from his friend, the jeweller, Béroli proceeds to Paris, goes straight to the mint, and presents the ring to the comptroller, who perfectly remembers the two rings in question, and gives the address of the jeweller who manufactured them.

From the latter Béroli learns, that his customer, Andréas, lives at No. 13, Rue Cadet.

Any one else would have handed Andréas over to the police; but caring much more to obtain possession of his ring, than to satisfy the ends of justice, Béroli thinks it more prudent to take the affair into his own hands, and manage it in his own way.

He goes to the concierge, in the Rue Cadet, and slipping a napoleon into his hand, begins by relating to him a romantic tale, well calculated to impose on the man, and make him tell all he wished to know.

Béroli says, that a daughter of a friend of his, residing in the country, has been asked in marriage by his tenant, M. Andréas, and that he has come to find out all he can about him, believing that he could not go to a better source than his friend the concierge.

The man, delighted at the affable manners of his interlocutor, as well as flattered at the confidence reposed in him, reveals, under the seal of secresy, that Andréas has a mistress living with him, and that he often remains from home all night.

This is enough for Béroli; he takes leave of his obliging informant, and, that very evening, places himself as a spy at the gate of his deceiver.

At ten o'clock at night, Andréas comes out, and directs his steps towards an isolated house, at the end of the Rue Pigale.

Béroli follows him, and sees him, and about twenty other men, go into the same house.

Hidden in a doorway close by, Béroli observes all that goes on without being himself seen. He remarks, that every time the bell of the gate is rung, the door is opened by a servant with a light in his hand, who makes a close inspection of the person presenting himself, before he admits him.

The mystery attending the meeting, the absence of a concierge, &c., all lead Béroli to conclude, that this must be one of the secret gambling houses; and what confirms him still more in this opinion, is, that though there are four windows in each story, in the front of the house, not one of them is illuminated. Any one would have supposed it to be uninhabited.

Wishing to have a yet more convincing proof of the correctness of his surmises, he determines to wait until the meeting is over, and employs himself, whilst waiting, in concocting his plan of attack.

About four o'clock in the morning, the door again opens, and a man, after looking up and down the street in a mysterious manner, issues out.

Béroli suddenly confronts him.

"Sir," said he, quickly, so as to give him no time for reflection, "is everybody gone out of this house?"

"Why?" asks the unknown.

"Because the police are close by, and will soon surround it. I came to warn one of my friends, who was to have spent the night here."

"Thanks for the information," replies the unknown, proceeding on his way.

If, thought Béroli, this man be only one of the dupes, he would have nothing to fear, as he has quitted the gambling house; but his anxiety to be off, proves that he fears the vigilance of the police, so I feel sure he must be one of the gang.

Full of this idea, Béroli follows at a little distance, and when he sees him slacken his pace, he goes up to him, and thus addresses him:—

"I beg your pardon for having made you race in this manner, by giving you false information, but I wished to find out if you were one of us, and I have succeeded in so doing."

"Will you explain yourself, sir, if you please, for I do not understand what you mean."

"I can easily make you comprehend me, by simply stating that I am the colleague of Andréas."

"What has that got to do with it?"

"I wish to make a proposition to you. Would you like to gain two thousand francs without any trouble?".

"Explain yourself."

"Since you say you know Andréas——"

"I beg your pardon, I did not say that."

"Since you know him, I must inform you, that that scamp has played me a most infamous trick."

"He is quite capable of so doing," added the unknown, in a low voice.

"I wish to be revenged, and that is why I ask you to assist me."

"What is there for me to do?"

"Scarcely anything. It is only necessary for you to bring Andréas to a house, which I shall point out to you, under pretext of introducing him into a club, where he will find several victims to dupe. I'll arrange all the rest."

"I am ready," replied the unknown. "When and where is it to be?"

"To-morrow, at No. 22, Rue Meslay, on the second floor."

The following morning, the new associate of Béroli called on Andréas, to make the perfidious proposition to him.

Never doubting his comrade, Andréas accepted the proposal, thinking to make an excellent coup, the more so, as things were going on rather badly in the Rue Pigale.

That very evening, the two Greeks proceeded to the house indicated by Béroli, in the Rue Meslay.

A servant in livery, having admitted them, opened the doors of a drawing-room brilliantly illuminated.

Andréas entered first, without apprehension, but he had no sooner done so, than his companion, following the instructions he had received from Béroli, turned round suddenly, and locked the door.

At the same moment, Béroli, and two athletic-looking men, entered from a door on the opposite side of the room.

"You, doubtless, remember me," exclaimed Béroli, in an austere and determined voice. "You must know what it is that brings me here."

"What do you mean, sir," cried Andréas, feigning the greatest indignation. "First of all, answer me. What sort of ambush is this, into which you have entrapped me? Am I in the midst of thieves, or assassins?"

"Do not speak so loud, sir," replied Béroli, "or you may have reason to regret it. The ambush of which you complain is only a favour to you—a step towards an amicable settlement of the business."

"What do you mean by talking to me about favours?" replied Andréas, "and what do you complain of? You offered me ten thousand francs for a ring, and I accepted your offer. Did I not give you the ring?"

"Yes, you did, but you omit to mention, that the stone you gave me was a false one."

"Ah! Mon Dieu!" coolly replied Andréas. "I am far from denying it. I repeated that to you so often, that you must recollect it. Besides, did you not, when paying me the ten thousand francs, say you knew the stone was false, but that you very much wished to possess it?"

"Do not let us play upon words, sir, but let us come to the point. You are going to give me the ring you cheated me out of."

"To avoid all discussion on the subject, I tell you, once for all, that I have never had any other ring in my possession, than the one I delivered to you."

"If that be the case, you will not mind copying this, and sending it to your mistress?"

"Let me see what it's about," said Andréas, taking the paper from Béroli. He read as follows:—

"My dearest,—I hope to make some money in the house from which I pen these lines, but I require my diamond ring for the affair. Bring it to me yourself, to the address I enclose, and do not entrust it to any one else. The bearer of this note will give you my keys. At eleven o'clock precisely, I shall be at the door awaiting you. Take a carriage, so as to be punctual.

"Andréas.

"22, Rue Meslay."

"Nothing will induce me to write that," exclaimed Andréas.

"I will not solicit you long," said Béroli. "Will you do it, Yes or No?"

"No, a thousand times, no!"

"Baptiste, go and bring the commissary of police," said Béroli, addressing the man on his right. "Go at once, and do not return without him."

"A moment," supplicated Andréas, making a sign to the commissionnaire to stop. "Let us see if we cannot arrange this business; what will you take to end the affair?"

"I will have no arrangements; I require nothing, but that you should copy and sign this letter."

Seeing there was nothing for it but to agree to Béroli's proposal, Andréas began to think, how he could manage to decamp with the ring, as soon as he received it from the hands of his mistress.

So, seating himself at the table, on which all the implements for writing had been previously prepared, and under the eye of Béroli, he copied the missive word for word.

Two hours afterwards, Andréas was set at liberty, and Béroli had obtained possession of the celebrated ring.

This is how it was managed:

The chère amie of Andréas, on receiving his note, hastened in a carriage to the house he had indicated, taking the ring with her; but no sooner did the carriage stop at the door of No. 22, Rue Meslay, than a commissary of police, with his badge of office (the scarf), and accompanied by a sergent-de-ville, opened the door of the carriage and got in, directing the coachman to go to the prefecture of police in the Rue de Jerusalem.

On their way thither, the commissary explained to the fair messenger, that, having been ordered by the police to keep a watch on No. 22, Rue Meslay, he stopped a man coming out of that house, who was the bearer of a letter, and that after reading the contents of it, he had substituted one of the police for the original messenger.

"The law has seized all the property which was in that house, and I am under the painful necessity, madam," continued he, "of arresting you, as being a party concerned in a serious robbery. Allow me to take charge of this article, which otherwise you might make away with." Thus saying, the officer drew the diamond ring from the finger of the lady, though not without some resistance on her part.

The clock of the Palais de Justice was striking midnight, as the carriage drove up to the gate. The night was pitch dark.

"We must ring up the concierge to open the gate," observed the commissary to the sergent-de-ville; at the same time they both got out, and shut the door of the carriage with assiduous care.

Two minutes had scarcely elapsed, when a loud voice exclaimed, "You cannot remain opposite this gate, coachman."

"I know that," replied that individual, "but I am waiting for orders. You have not told me where to drive to, Ma'am," added he, putting down one of the glasses. "Where am I to drive you to?"

"Where are you to drive me? To the Rue Cadet, where you took me up," said the fair occupant of the carriage, in a tremulous voice.

"Go along, my hearties," exclaimed the Jehu, whipping up his horses, "this is my last fare to-night."

If my readers have not already guessed as much, I will mention for their edification, that the commissary of police and his assistant, were neither more nor less than two of Béroli's friends; and that, instead of ringing up the concierge, as they had stated, favoured by the darkness of the night, they made off, as quickly as they could, carrying the precious ring, which they soon afterwards delivered into the hands of Béroli.

[CHAPTER XII.]
AN INFAMOUS SNARE.

A young fool—Envy and covetousness—Aphorisms—Insinuations—Confidences—Influencing the game—Honest men are sometimes rogues—Mushrooms and cheating—The Greek moralist—Example of cheating—Initiation—Maxims and manipulations—Temptation—The Belgian capitalist—The cartes biseautées—Easily won—An insolvent gambler—Comedy—The Greek in despair—An infamous scene—Dishonour—Ruin—The faithless trustee—Separation of the philosophers—A virtuous Greek—Golden hopes—A beard again—A demi-millionaire.

The Society of Philosophers generally made Calais the centre of their operations, for the reason that they were often summoned by Achille Chauvignac, who, as my readers may remember, had been the originator of the plot at St. Omer.

Chauvignac was especially indefatigable in such affairs, as, without running the slightest risk, he always shared largely in the profits of these transactions.

So unprincipled was he, that he continually selected his most intimate friends for his victims.

Each gambler was classed as to his means, and also, as to whether he was likely to allow himself to be plucked without remonstrance.

Thus, M. B— was valued at three thousand francs; M. P— at six thousand; M. C— was not worth much, being a bad player; but, at any rate, they put him down at a thousand francs.

The one who was considered the best, that is, the richest dupe, was M. F—, who was estimated at from fifteen to twenty thousand francs.

Andréas and Raymond had gone the round of all the clubs of Calais and Boulogne, but they dared not venture to St. Omer, for fear of being recognised. They sent, in their place, however, two clever sharpers, who originally came from Venice, which city was formerly supposed to be the cradle of roguery.

The Society of Philosophers would not certainly have placed the implicit confidence they did, in these two delegates, had it not been, that they were under the immediate surveillance of Chauvignac, who not only looked after them himself, but arranged a system of espionnage between the two Greeks, so that each of them was overlooked by his companion. His plan was, to address one of them privately thus:

"Do you know, I have not much confidence in your friend; I much fear he will impose on our society; just take a note of his winnings, and watch him. You shall not go unrewarded for this service."

He then went and said precisely the same thing to the other, so that without being aware of it, each Greek was watched by his comrade.

The harvest reaped by the society at St. Omer, was very productive, but the largest share went into the pocket of Chauvignac, who, as may be conceived, was not very particular in the just division of the money entrusted to him.

Whether it was in consequence of this affair, or from some trifling indiscretion on the part of the philosophers, the credit of Chauvignac seemed on the decline. Every one was astonished to see the money he spent,—a man who had literally nothing—and then his constant trips to Paris, without any obvious reason, and his intimacy with men whose characters were not unsullied—all these circumstances combined to make honest men rather shun his society.

Chauvignac was as clever as he was unprincipled; for the latter quality does not prevent a man from possessing talent; the best proof of which is, that a rogue is seldom a fool.

Chauvignac was sharp enough, soon to discover the discredit into which he had fallen, and knowing how prejudicial it would prove to his interests, he immediately set about thinking, how he could reestablish himself in the good graces of society.

Amongst the young fools who shared with him a life of dissipation, he had formed a small club, at the head of which was a young man named Olivier de X——, who was noted for his elegance and his eccentricities.

The family of this wild young fellow, was one of the oldest and most respectable in the country, and much looked-up to.

Chauvignac fixed on this young heir, as a means of regaining his place in the good opinion of his fellow-citizens.

He affected to be on terms of the greatest intimacy with him, when he met him in public places, and addressed him in a loud tone of voice, in the most familiar manner.

But, unfortunately, this apparent intimacy with Olivier, had just the contrary result to what Chauvignac had anticipated: the one lost position, but the other did not gain it.

Olivier began to be shunned, but Chauvignac fared no better. The latter, however, as soon as he perceived this, and he was not long in so doing, bethought himself of making Olivier's credit subservient to his views in another way.

The parents of Olivier were not wealthy, and could do nothing for their son, so his excessive extravagance had brought him into difficulties and debt.

He regarded Chauvignac with envy and admiration; he saw him living like a prince, without any creditors to annoy him.

"How is it," said he to Chauvignac one day, "that you, who have no fortune, can gratify all your tastes and fancies, whilst I, who have some small means, am obliged to be economical, besides which, I am in debt?"

This query was precisely what Chauvignac had been waiting for. He remained, for some moments, without answering his questioner, intending to give more effect to his words; then, with a diabolical smile, he thus addressed him:

"Would you like to be as happy as I am?"

"Can you ask me?"

"All depends on yourself, to be even better off than I am."

"What must I do?" eagerly demanded Olivier.

Chauvignac thought his young neophyte sufficiently prepared, to receive what he had to impart.

"Listen to me," whispered he, in a mysterious voice. "You have doubtless heard the following proverb, old as the world itself: Men are divided into two classes, Dupers and Dupes. Come, speak frankly, to which of these categories would you like to belong?"

"Why you see, you are so abrupt in your question. You come on one so suddenly; it requires reflection."

"Agreed," observed this second Mephistophiles, "we will make the reflections together, and will study the subject, in some individuals of that great and motley crowd, which is termed 'society.'"

The two friends were, at that moment, standing at the door of one of the largest and best cafés in the town.

It was Sunday; the weather was fine, and crowds of pedestrians were lounging up and down before them.

"Look," said Chauvignac, "do you see that thin miserable man, with his head bowed down, and his clothes hanging in rags? He is an unfortunate fellow, who has worked all his life to pay off the debts left by his father. He is old: he has hardly bread to put in his mouth. You will observe no one takes any notice of him. Now, look at that stout man, so puffed up with pride and insolence; how pleased he seems with himself, as they say, like a peacock spreading his tail. He has been a merchant, and has made his money by fraud and cheating. He afterwards set up as a banker, and lent money at an usurious interest. He is now a millionnaire. See—he bows with a patronising air to all whom he meets. The first is a dupe, the second a duper."

"Or to speak more plainly," added Olivier, "the first is an honest man, the second a rogue."

"Be it so—I grant you that," continued the tempter, "but now I will give you another example, of which you will not be able to make the same observation.

"You, better than any one else, ought to know an intelligent, generous-hearted, and ambitious young man, who, for want of sufficient means, leads a life of privation and troubles, is overwhelmed with debt, and, if he thinks of playing to retrieve his fortunes, he is sure to lose. Near to him, at this moment, is one of his friends, who, without fixed income or expectations, possesses, nevertheless, a never ending fortune. This man always wins at play, and has not a caprice ungratified.

"The former of these is the dupe, the latter —— is ——"

Here Chauvignac paused, to allow Olivier to finish the phrase.

"What is it you mean?" asked he, beginning to comprehend the purport of the conversation.

"What I mean, is this," replied Chauvignac with a sneer—"To prove to you, that the lucky gamester, whose good fortune you envy, belongs to a society of philosophers, and that these philosophers have certain and easy methods, of turning luck in their own favour."

"But," observed Olivier, his sense of right struggling for mastery in his mind. "To cheat at play is an act of dishonesty."

"On this point, my dear sir, we do not agree; you are in error, and I will prove it to you. First of all, tell me what you call cheating at play?"

"I call winning by underhand tricks, cheating."

"Very well; if that be the case, I will soon show you that the most honest man will not scruple to cheat.

"For instance, do we not daily see men of the strictest probity, seek to turn luck in their favour by various means. One, in placing himself at the table, will sit opposite the hinges, because he believes it to be a lucky spot. Again, if he wins, he will not count his money, fearing to turn his luck. Another believes in the influence of a certain coin, which he mixes with the rest of his money—but which he will never part with. Others, again, wear amulets, made of the dried heart of a black hen, the head of a beetle, or a bit of the cord with which a malefactor has been hung.[G]

"Just tell me what is the object of these mysterious influences, if it be not, as they say in the criminal courts, "gagner subrepticement le bien d'autrui en faisant tourner à son profit les bénéfices d'une partie.

"In such cases, if the act is not committed, the intention is the same, and ought to be considered as if accomplished.

"Between the above-mentioned actions and ours, the only difference is, that one depends on the mind, the other on the fingers. The moral result is the same.

"Of this you may be sure, that if these honest folks do not go further, it is because they dare not. I will even say more," continued Chauvignac, carried away by his own sophistry. "Take, for instance, one of these heroes of probity, and show him a method of always winning, with a certainty of never being detected, and see if he will not follow it. Believe me, I know a great deal more than I care to tell."

"All that," said Olivier, "proves, at most, that all honest men may not be able to resist temptation; but it does not go to prove, that cheating is not a crime. Besides, it is punishable by law."

"That's true," replied the cunning Chauvignac; "but again, we have no proof that the law is right. I maintain, that, far from being reprehensible, the art of turning aside ill-luck and bettering one's fortune, is a thing which ought to be encouraged."

Olivier could not help smiling.

"I am serious," added Chauvignac. "Yes! The art of winning at play is meritorious. And why? Because it is useful. If the Government had any sense, they would not only encourage cheating, but give a premium for it."

"Then I don't know what morality means."

"Only, because you have not studied pure philosophy, as I have. Hold—to make you understand it better, I will just give you an example.

"How often do we hear of deaths caused by eating mushrooms! Well, if people imagined that all mushrooms were poisonous, of course no one would venture to partake of them.

"It is the same with gambling; if people expected to lose every time they played, few would run the risk of trusting to their luck at cards, and play would become what it ought to be, a mere relaxation and amusement.

"Thus the Greeks would have done more for morality, than all the moralists in the world.

"Therefore, I confess to you, that I, who would not rob any one of a pin, have not only no scruple in doing my best to control fate, but, in cheating, I think I carry out a principle, eminently useful to humanity.

"The art of cheating at play, is to me only high philosophy put in practice."

Young Olivier had listened with the most intense interest, to the eloquent pleading of his friend in favour of cheating, and it was easy to perceive, that his feelings of probity on the subject, were giving way before the subtle sophistry of the tempter, and that he already began to approve of some of the arguments he had heard in its favour.

Chauvignac perceived it, and wishing to continue his work of evil—

"Let us see," added he, in an insinuating manner, "what have we to weigh in your own case? On the one hand, wealth, pleasure, and enjoyment of every description; on the other hand, hard-hearted creditors, misery, and ruin."

"But," observed Olivier at length, quite carried away in spite of himself, "one might be discovered, and then—"

"How weak and childish you are!—Here, come into this café with me, and you shall see how easily these things are done.

"You see yonder big Benoit, with his small annuity. I am going to propose a game of piquet to him, and make him pay for a cup of coffee for each of us. 'Tis a pity he has not more to lose."

Benoit is accosted by these gentlemen. The game and the stake are accepted: the result is not long delayed. In two hands the game was over. Chauvignac and his friend left the café, and once in the street, the former put the finishing stroke to his unworthy maxims.

"There, it is not difficult, you observe," said he. "Oh! how delightful it is to be able to wrestle with fate, by fleecing a set of simpletons, whom that capricious Dame Fortune loves so often to favour."

"Does it take long to learn?" said Olivier, quite bewildered with all he had seen and heard.

"That depends upon circumstances," replied his perfidious friend; "it is with this art, as with the piano, one can soon give pleasure; it depends on the professor, and his method of teaching.

"But, as we are not far from where I live, come in; and whilst we smoke a cigar together, I'll explain a few things to you."

Olivier still rather hesitated to follow him.

"Oh! nonsense! it binds you to nothing; you can do just as you please. It is as well to know a little of everything, and at all events, if you do not like to practise the system yourself, it will put you on your guard when attacked. One never knows what may happen."

Chauvignac would certainly not have taken so much trouble about the matter, if he had not had in view some act of treachery towards his companion. The conversation ended by Olivier accepting the offer held out to him.

Behold them now, seated on a sofa, each with a cigar in his mouth, and Chauvignac with a pack of cards in his hand.

"Look! here is a hand, tell me if you see any signs of cheating in any of the cards?"

The novice examined the cards with great attention, but not being an adept in the art, failed to discover anything.

"You observe nothing in this hand of cards?" said Chauvignac. "They have, however, been subjected to a process that we call biseautage,[H] or having one end made narrower than the other. This system shows the player what cards he is to retain, and how to class them, in the order he requires for playing."

Chauvignac, joining precept to example, showed his friend the way it was to be done.

"Now," added he, "to prove to you that this trick is not difficult, I will make you do it yourself. Let us sit down at this table, and suppose we are playing for a thousand francs."

Although Olivier had no great talent for sleight of hand, he succeeded in learning from his friend how to gain the whole of the five tricks, twice running, at écarté.

"This trick," said Chauvignac to him, "is one of the first, as well as the most easy, in the art of cheating. In a little while, I shall teach you how to play with prepared cards, and you will, in time, I hope, become an accomplished philosopher."

Olivier made no reply, his mind was in a perfect state of chaos, from the thousand and one thoughts which filled it.

The tempter, judging his victim to be now sufficiently compromised, left him to the temptations which he had suggested to him. He made the excuse of having some visits to pay, and the two friends separated.

Two days afterwards the Professor went to see his pupil.

"Would you like to join me," asked he, "in a little tour of pleasure I am about to make?"

"Your kind proposal is badly timed," replied Olivier. "I am not only without funds just now, but I am trying to obtain a thousand francs, to pay a cursed bill of exchange that I signed, and which falls due this very day."

"Is that all?" said Chauvignac, taking a banknote for the amount out of his pocket-book—"Here it is; but mind, you must return it to me to-morrow."

"You are deranged."

"Perhaps I am, but in my insanity, I am mad enough to offer you another thousand francs, to enable you to go and secure thirty thousand which are awaiting you."

"Pray explain yourself, or else you will turn my brain also!"

"Listen: if ever there was a desperate gambler, it is the Count de Vandermool, a rich Belgian capitalist, and who can well afford to lose a hundred thousand francs (4000l.). He is just now in Boulogne, and intends remaining there a week. We must bleed this millionnaire; nothing will be more easy, as a friend and colleague of mine from Paris, named Chaffard, is already acquainted with him, so all we have to do is to set to work at once.

"You are now one of us. That is well understood, is it not? In a short time you will be able to satisfy your creditors, and to give your mistress a Cashmere shawl."

"But you go too quick," said Olivier in a wavering tone. "Wait a bit, I have not yet said yes."

"I don't ask you to say 'yes' now, you shall say it at Boulogne—make haste, and go and pay your bill; we shall leave this in two hours. The post-horses are ordered, we shall start from my house—be punctual."

The same evening the two philosophers arrive at Boulogne. They alight at the Hôtel de L'Univers, which has been selected for them by their accomplice—by whom they are shortly welcomed.

He tells them they have no time to lose, as the Count has spoken of quitting Boulogne the following day.

The travellers swallow a hasty dinner, make some slight toilette, and bend their steps towards the apartment occupied by the Count, preceded by Chaffard, who introduces them as two friends of his, who have estates in the neighbourhood.

The Count de Vandermool is a man about fifty years of age, he has an open and pleasing countenance; on his breast hang several foreign decorations.

The new arrivals are received by him with the most flattering cordiality; he does more; he invites them to spend the evening with him.

The invitation, it is needless to say, is accepted. The conversation, at first animated, begins to flag a little. The Count proposes a game of cards, which proposal is also eagerly accepted by the three confederates.

Whilst the tables are being arranged, Chauvignac gave his young friend two packs of cards, biseautées, to be substituted for those which should be produced by the Count.

Écarté was the game fixed on, and Olivier was selected to play with the Belgian; the two others having pretended not to know the game, contented themselves by betting one against the other—as their interests were in common, it was of little consequence which won the bet.

Olivier was at first thunderstruck at the assertion of his two friends, that they did not know how to play, but from certain telegraphic signs they made to him, he discovered that it was to prevent suspicion, in case he should win.

The wealthy Count would only play for bank-notes. "Metal," he said, "has not an agreeable odour in a drawing-room."

The young novice, at first confused by being a party to such a snare, neglected for a time to take advantage of the prepared cards, and following the dictates of his conscience, trusted to the chances of fortune.

The capricious goddess, far from being grateful for his trust, forsook him.

In two hands, the only thousand-franc note he possessed fell into the hands of his opponent.

Now it is, that, pressed on by the glances of Chauvignac, as well as anxious to regain his loss, Olivier essays some of the manœuvres which his friend had taught him.

They were easy to execute, for the Count was so near-sighted, that his nose was almost buried in his cards.

Of course the luck now turned, and the bank-notes began to accumulate beside Olivier, who, elated with his success, was indefatigable in his work.

The Count Vandermool was a good-tempered player. His repeated losses did not make him lose his jovial good-humour.

To look at his happy countenance, you would certainly have thought he was the winner.

"I am not in a lucky vein," observed he, good-naturedly, taking a pinch of snuff from a superb gold snuff-box. "In this last trick, I vainly hoped to gain all, and I've got nothing."

Olivier was serious, his mind was not in a state to talk lightly. He continued to handle his cards with feverish eagerness.

Not wishing, however, to seem wanting in politeness towards so noble a host—"You are admirable to-night," said he to him with a faint smile.

"'Admirable,' do you say—Yes, yes, Monsieur Olivier, that's the word. I wish you joy. Go on; give me some cards!"

"It is useless to go on. Trump, and then trump. I cut, and it is the king of diamonds, which stands good—this gives me the five points."

"Ah! ill-luck has certainly fastened on me this evening," said the Count, "that makes eighty thousand francs I have lost; I see I shall soon make up the hundred thousand.

"I think it right to tell you, that I never go beyond that sum, and that if I am to lose it, I shall propose having some supper before I lose my last twenty thousand. Perhaps, that may change my luck; you certainly owe me this much."

The proposition to sup, met with general approbation.

Olivier, almost out of his wits with joy, at becoming the possessor of eighty thousand francs, could not resist the impulse he felt to testify his feelings of gratitude to Chauvignac. He drew him aside, and shook him warmly by the hand.

The wretched man had no idea of the cruel deception which had been practised on him, and which had all been pre-arranged by his two comrades.

The rich Belgian capitalist, the respectable count, was no other than a clever Parisian sharper, whom Chauvignac had persuaded to come, for the express purpose of ruining the unfortunate young man, who never perceived, whilst his back was turned, that the count changed the two packs of clipped cards which they had hitherto used, for two packs biseautées in the contrary way.

During supper they drank but little, wishing to keep their heads clear. The meal, nevertheless, was very merry; and as soon as it was over, they recommenced playing.

"Now," said the Parisian sharper, seating himself at the table, "I wish to end this affair one way or other, quickly. Let us make the stake twenty thousand francs (800l.)."

Olivier, after having won so largely, could not but accept the proposition. It was only just towards his adversary. But, oh! cruel deception! the stake of twenty thousand francs, on which Olivier had so surely counted, passed into the hands of his opponent.

A stake of forty thousand francs shared the fate of its predecessor. Breathless, bewildered, and discouraged, Olivier knew not what to do. In vain he manipulated the cards; he got none but the lowest, whilst his adversary had all the trumps in his hand; and as it was Olivier who dealt them to him, he could not complain.

In his despair, he looked enquiringly at Chauvignac, who made signs to him to go on.

Distracted, and quite beside himself, the poor victim continued to stake enormous sums; and, in his turn, shortly owed his adversary a hundred thousand francs.

The pretended count then gave up playing, folded his arms, and thus addressed Olivier:

"M. Olivier de X——," said he, in a stern tone of voice, "you must be very well off, to stake such sums; but be careful, for, rich as you are, you must be aware, that if people lose a hundred thousand francs, they must also pay them, as I did.

"So now, just pay me the sum you have lost, and then we'll go on playing."

"That's only fair, sir," muttered young Olivier; "I am willing to satisfy your demands, but you know that gambling debts ... my word...."

"Devil take it, sir," exclaimed the count, giving the table a violent blow with his fist. "What's that you say about your word? It well becomes you to talk of debts of honour. We'll play, if you please, another kind of game, and let us put things as they really are. M. Olivier de X——, you are a knave! Yes; a knave! The cards you have been using are clipped; and it is you who have brought them here."

"Sir, you insult me."

"You don't say so, sir," said the count, ironically.

"Sir, this is too much—I demand satisfaction for this—and that immediately. Do you hear, sir? let us go, and settle it at once."

"No, no, let us remain here, and settle this affair of honour. Stay, your two friends will be your witnesses, and I will send to some of my friends, to come and be mine."

Scarcely had the sharper uttered these words, than he got up, and rang violently.

His servant answered the bell.

"Go to the Procureur du Roi, and ask him to come here at once, on an affair of great importance; make haste, do you understand?"

"Pardon! sir, pardon! Do not ruin me," said the unhappy Olivier, in a tone of supplication. "I throw myself on your mercy."

"Étienne, mind you wait outside that door, and if, in ten minutes, you do not receive orders to the contrary you will do as I told you."

"Now then, sir," continued the count, turning to Olivier, "I will talk to you. These cards have been substituted by you in the place of those which I had provided. I insist upon your making these cards up in a packet, and sealing them with the ring on your finger, which bears your crest and coat of arms."

In vain Olivier looked from one to the other; neither Chauvignac nor Chaffard gave him any encouragement, but looked at him as much as to say, there was nothing for it but to do as he was desired.

Olivier obeyed.

As soon as the demand had been complied with, the pretended Belgian again attacked him. "Besides, this is not all, sir; I have fairly won my money, and you will give me a guarantee that it will be paid to me. You will give me bills at sight for the sum of one hundred thousand francs which you owe me."

The unhappy Olivier hesitating to comply with this demand, his implacable creditor rose and seized the bell.

"Oh! do not ring, sir—do not ring," said the young man, "I will sign the paper."

And he signed it.

The villainous plot was consummated.

Olivier returned to his family, and humbly confessed all that he had done.

His old father, rather than bring disgrace on his child, paid the money, esteeming his son's honour beyond all price.

The Society of Philosophers had shared in this roguery, in the persons of Chaffard and the Belgian capitalist.

To Chaffard was delegated the arrangement of the money department; and so well did he manage the business, that, in a very short space of time, he had the satisfaction of receiving a hundred thousand francs, in exchange for the bills which he held.

Chauvignac, ever watchful for his own interest, immediately claimed his portion of the booty. Half the sum (as had been agreed on) was handed over to him, for having arranged the scheme and prepared the victim. The remaining fifty thousand francs were left in the hands of Chaffard, to be divided between the three philosophers.

But the cunning rascal finding himself in possession of funds sufficient to give him a year's enjoyment and luxury, and living, as he did, in fear from day to day of being arrested for his numerous misdeeds, instead of going to Paris, directed his steps to Brussels, to play in his turn (but in good earnest) the rôle of a French capitalist.

In a moment of weakness, Chaffard had confided his project to Chauvignac, who immediately wrote, and told the two other philosophers of it.

Raymond, who was a philosopher in the true acceptation of the word, received the news with great coolness; he had learned to his cost that one must never depend on the honour of a rogue.

This fresh escapade of Chaffard did not surprise him; he had rather expected it.

With Andréas it was otherwise: furious at seeing himself the puppet of a man whom he regarded as his inferior, if not in bodily strength, at least in intelligence and sagacity, he swore that he would overtake the thief, and make him disgorge his ill-gotten gains.

Full of artifices and schemes, he started for Belgium; but, by way of precaution, he took with him, as a fellow-traveller and companion, a celebrated pugilist—a sort of herculean bull-dog, whom he intended to let loose at his antagonist, if occasion required.

Once separated from the man, whom he had every reason to regard as his bad angel, Raymond felt no longer sufficient strength to follow the dangerous profession, into which he had been so fatally enticed.

The constant dangers by which he was surrounded, a last spark of conscience, and a return of better feelings, made him determine to quit for ever the discreditable career which he was following.

Possessed of twenty thousand francs, he had sufficient funds to keep him for awhile, and give him time to find some employment, which would enable him to live honourably. But after some months, led on by his old love of gambling in general and roulette in particular, he visited the various spas and watering-places, where those engines of ruin, gambling tables, are to be found, and where he undertook his famous crusade against the banks and their "croupiers."

We know the result of the calculations and computations of Voisin Raymond,—the inevitable fate of all gamesters who count on benefiting by the favours of fortune.

* * * * *

It took Raymond some days to narrate to me the above story, as, when the clock struck the hour for beginning to play, he immediately quitted me, and thought of nothing but his hypothetical combinations.

He was trying a new system, about which, by-the-bye, he would never tell me a word, but I had little doubt that it would prove as fallacious as the former one, and leave him nothing but his own bright dreams as his reward.

When I quitted Baden, he was penniless, and I had to add to the loan I had already made him.

Since his conversion, I had had good proof, that he preferred suffering the most severe privations, rather than have recourse to his skill in sharping; and this it was which made me advance him a larger sum.

When we parted, I left Raymond overjoyed with the hopes of being able to repay me all he owed, in a very short space of time, and even of being able to break the bank with the money I had lent him.

These golden visions, alas! were never destined to be realised. Soon afterwards, I went to Paris to resume my "séances," and whilst there, I received a letter from Raymond, making a last appeal to my generosity, to enable him to live until he got a situation he was trying for.

Wishing to prevent a recurrence of similar appeals, I did not answer his letter, but wrote to one of my friends at Strasbourg, to send the wretched man fifty francs, without telling him the name of his benefactor.

A whole year passed without my hearing any more of Raymond. I thought it very probable he had died of want, when one day, on returning home in a cab, I could not drive up to my own door, as an elegant brougham, which had just driven up, was standing opposite to it.

I therefore got out, and what was my astonishment, at recognising in my visitor, Voisin Raymond, extremely well dressed, and sporting all his beard, as in the former happy roulette days, except that it was not quite so long.

I almost hesitated to address him, so great was my surprise; I thought I must be the victim of an illusion.

"Ah!" exclaimed Raymond (making use of precisely the same words he did at our first meeting at Baden), "how a beard changes a man! especially when that man is transformed into a demi-millionnaire!"

"Come in quickly," said I to Raymond, "I am curious to know, to what lucky chance you owe your present prosperity."

My visitor followed me without uttering a word, and even after our entrance into the drawing-room, still remained silent.

I was the first to speak.

"How is it, my friend, that your great good luck has never been mentioned in the newspapers? You know, that when the bank loses, they make a point of giving the fact publicity through the press, in hopes of alluring fresh players?"

Still no reply from Raymond; but, after a protracted silence of several moments, he said:

"I am doing my best to find some means of prolonging your error; not finding any, I decide to tell you the truth.

"You doubtless remember, that when I commenced the history of my life, out of respect for one of the members of my family, I concealed my name. It was out of regard to my brother, who held a high appointment in the magistracy.

"This brother, who, thank God! knew nothing of my doings, except that I had run through my fortune, died three months since, without leaving a will. I am his sole heir, and have come into twenty-five thousand francs a year.

"This is how I have managed to become a rich man.

"I have entirely renounced gambling," continued Raymond. "I am rich enough for all I require, and have no ambition to become more wealthy.

"I could now, however," added he, with an air of triumph, "break every one of the banks, if I liked; and what a glorious vengeance I could take for all my former ill-luck! Fortunately, my heart is too full of happiness to leave any room for vengeance."

* * * * *

Raymond took up his abode in the Marais, where he lived respected. I lost sight of him, when I went to reside in the country; but three years afterwards, I had occasion to come to Paris, and learned that my friend had died, and left all his fortune to various charitable institutions in the capital.

[THE TECHNICAL PART.]

We are now come to the most important part of this work. I intend, in it, to explain to the reader, the manœuvres of the different sorts of Greeks I have just sketched. To make this more intelligible, it will be necessary for me to enter into certain details, which will, I trust, prove interesting.

I must preface this, however, by mentioning, that nothing is further from my intention, than to give a lecture on sleight-of-hand. I care more about putting the public on their guard, than about teaching them how the tricks are performed. I shall merely mention what is absolutely necessary, to make those who play, SHARP, and warn them against SHARPERS.

GENERAL RULES.
THE DIFFERENT TRICKS PRACTISED AT GAMES OF CARDS.

[CHAPTER I.]
THE FALSE CUT.

The saut de coupe—The passe-coupe—The cut above—The large card—The bridge—The bent card.

The art of making a false cut, is the most important artifice employed by sharpers: and the Greek always exerts his best energies to accomplish this feat.

In order to show what a false cut is, I must recall to the mind of my reader, the use and end of the regular cut.

In all games of cards, it is the custom for the dealer, when he has done shuffling, to present the pack of cards to his adversary to cut: it is a sort of guarantee of good faith, which is also performed even amongst perfectly honest players.

The following is the way in which it is generally done:—

The cards are placed by the dealer near his adversary.

The adversary cuts, that is to say, he takes away a portion of the pack of cards, and places them beside the dealer, thus making two packets, No. 1 and No. 2.

The dealer raises the packet No. 2 and places it on No. 1.

Thus the two packets are formed into one, and the natural or artificial arrangement of the cards is disordered.

It is of great importance to the Greek to prevent this, as it would defeat his plans, and prevent him availing himself of the arrangements he has made against his adversary. It is necessary, then, for his success, that the two packets, whilst in his hands, should regain their first position. For this purpose, he employs different methods, the principal of which are:—

PART I.
THE "SAUT DE COUPE."

The reader who is uninitiated in the mysteries of sleight of hand, will probably think it incredible, not to say impossible, that a Greek can thus transpose invisibly the arrangement of two packs of cards, before the very eyes of his adversaries. Nothing, however, is more true.

The treatises on sleight of hand give the method of executing this trick. As this work, however, has not for its object the same sort of instruction, I shall content myself with unveiling here, the preparations and arrangements necessary for the performance of the trick.

When the Greek, takes up the packet of cards No. 2, to place them on No. 1, as before mentioned, instead of placing them equally one upon the top of the other [which would prevent his being able to distinguish them], he places No. 2 a little further back than No. 1, so that the latter advances about a quarter of an inch beyond, as exemplified below, in figure 4.

Fig. 4.

By means of this projection of the cards, the Greek, as soon as he gets the pack between his hands, slips the little finger of his left hand between the two packets Nos. 1 and 2, and holds himself in readiness "Sauter la coupe,"[I] when the opportunity serves.

Clever swindlers have yet another, and more adroit, manner of keeping the two packets separate.

They will, with the right hand, take up packet No. 2 as if to place it on the other; but, instead of so doing, they manage to keep the two sufficiently apart, to enable them to slip the little finger of the left hand between, in the same way as before mentioned.

Fig. 5.

I have just said, that a Greek always waits his opportunity to execute the sliding cut.

It is only the new hands who are in a hurry. The experienced sharper always bides his time, and, whilst relating some amusing anecdote, accompanied by a variety of gestures and gesticulations with his other hand, completely draws off the attention of the company, and prevents their watching his performances.

For example, "What are the stakes?" he will ask, with an air of unconsciousness, stretching out his hand towards them; and with the same gesture towards the score, he will ascertain the number of points, as if he was not thinking what he was about.

But let the "sliding-cut" be performed ever so well, it is very difficult to practise it where the play is high. In such company, every dealer ought to be sober in his movements; for, the least gesture which deviates from the regular rules, in sorting, shuffling, or dealing the cards, is certain to awaken suspicion. But a Greek is, notwithstanding, seldom at fault; if he fail with one trickery, he has another at hand, his répertoire being as varied as it is numerous.

PART II.
THE PASSE-COUPE, OR CUT BENEATH.

All sharpers are cunning, clever, and tricky, but they do not all possess the same facility for tricks of sleight of hand. Many of them not being able to accomplish the sliding cut, so as not to be seen, are obliged to have recourse to other tricks less difficult. Of this number is the "passe-coupe."

This trick is of the same use as the preceding one, and, if well executed, stands as little chance of being discovered.

In order to explain this trick, it is necessary for me to revert to that paragraph where the cards have been divided into two packs by cutting.

Fig. 6.

The Greek, in taking up the two packets of cards, instead of putting No. 2 on No. 1, slides it in underneath, as in figure 7.

Fig. 7.

When he has raised packet No. 2, he places it between the first and second fingers, and whilst raising packet No. 1, artfully manages to slide it underneath.

To facilitate this manœuvre, the rogue takes care to bend the cards whilst he shuffles them.

Some Greeks, instead of placing the packet No. 2 between the two first fingers, merely take the cards into their hands, and slide them beneath one another, as above described. But in this latter case the transposition is easily discovered.

PART III.
THE ENJAMBAGE, OR CUT ABOVE.

The "cut above" is a very simple and clever trick, and it is astonishing, when one knows it, to think how easily people are deceived, and that it should not be discovered. However, I candidly confess, the first time I saw it done, I was taken in, as others are.

In this trick, the Greek, instead of placing packet No. 2 on packet No. 1, passes the former over without stopping into the left hand, which he holds a little in advance, and places packet No. 1 on the top.

This trick, as well as the preceding one, is more especially practised in public-houses and places of low resort.

PART IV.
THE CARTE LARGE, OR LARGE CARD.

The heading of this division sufficiently indicates the nature of the trick I am about to describe.

It is to have one card larger than all the rest. When introduced into a pack this card, by its projection, almost forces the pack to divide, wherever the person who places it wishes.

If the Greek has previously arranged the cards as he wishes them to be, their being cut, in no way disarranges his plans, as the card alluded to remains where it was placed at the commencement of the deal.

The large card is also used by the swindler as a sort of mark, to alter the cut to wherever he thinks it would be most beneficial to him.

PART V.
THE PONT, OR BRIDGE.

The bridge is one of the oldest tricks in use amongst sharpers, and it is almost impossible to be on one's guard against its use, when well done.

As in the preceding examples, it is used to make a false cut, and thus to retain the cards as they have been arranged by the sharper to enable him to win.

The pack of cards must be held in the right hand, and bent, by pressing them against the first finger of the left. The upper part of the pack must then be bent in an opposite direction, so as to form an arch, as in figure 8.

Fig. 8.

This being accomplished, the upper portion of the pack is laid on the top of the other, as if to mix the cards.

The two bent cards are thus brought in contact, and it is the gap produced by these two arcs, which forces the cut to be made oftener at that spot than at any other, as represented in figure 9.

Fig. 9.

The smallest space between any two cards is sufficient for this purpose. The "carte tuilée," or card bent lengthways, is also used for this purpose.

The two portions of the pack, being bent lengthways, and laid face to face, are sure to make the cut at that particular spot, by causing a division in the pack; but this trick is not so good as the last-mentioned, and is, consequently, seldom employed.

[CHAPTER II.]
TO CHANGE A CARD.

"Filer la carte" is to change one card for another.

In the hands of an adroit sharper, this change is performed so instantaneously, that it is almost impossible for the quickest eye to detect it.

Let us suppose that, in dealing the cards, the Greek discovers, by means which I will hereafter explain, that the card he is going to give to his adversary would be advantageous to himself, he hides, or slips away, the card which ought to have been dealt to his adversary, and gives him, instead, the one which follows.

I will just explain how this manœuvre is managed.

When the Greek intends to perform this trick, he takes care, whilst dealing, to push two cards a little in advance of the rest of the pack, as shown in Nos. 1 and 2 in figure 10.

Fig. 10.

In a regular deal, No. 1 would be given before No. 2; but if the Greek thinks it to his interest to retain it, he substitutes the second for the first. Thus, by holding the two cards together, between his thumb and forefinger, he pushes them contrary ways, that is to say, he pushes No. 2 forward, and No. 1 backward, as represented in the figure below.

Fig. 11.

He then passes over the first card with his right hand, and gives the second.

This feat, which I have been obliged to explain thus lengthily, to make it clearly understood, ought to be done instantaneously, and with the rapidity of lightning.

Those who are expert, whilst advancing the right hand to give a card, at the same time draw back the left. This manœuvre completely deceives the eye, and may be practised as often as is necessary for the card in reserve to come into the hand of the Greek.

To give an idea how completely a person may be deceived by this trick, I will just relate what once happened to myself.

A certain Greek (of whom I have already spoken in my Memoirs) was anxious to show me this trick, and by way of illustrating his theory, selected the King of Spades, and placed it on the top of the pack. He then dealt the cards one after the other, and by thirty-one successive "filages," he so managed, that the King of Spades was the last card of the pack.

I acknowledge, and indeed I do so still, that so adroit was he, that though I knew the trick myself, I could not detect him.

[CHAPTER III.]
THE ABSTRACTED CARD.

When one has not been initiated into the mysteries of sleight-of-hand, it is difficult to believe that a sharper can abstract several cards, and put them back again, under the very eyes of his antagonist, without being detected. Such, however, is the fact.

The art of abstracting cards is one of the most useful tricks in sleight-of-hand, and it requires great skill and adroitness to perform the feat cleverly.

In order to do this trick, the Greek keeps the cards he wishes to abstract, placed diagonally in his left hand, at the top of the others, and a little advanced towards his right hand; as in figure 12.

Fig. 12.

He takes possession of the cards with his right hand, and holds them tightly between the top joints of the four fingers, and the first joint of the thumb, or the thenar, as it is termed in medical parlance.

The cards are consequently slightly bent, as in figure 13.

Fig. 13.

There is yet another manner of abstracting cards; but it is less practised by sharpers, than by conjurors, who often show off the trick in various ways, where it would be impossible for a sharper to make use of it.

It simply consists in holding the cards lightly, between the thumb and little finger of the hand which takes up the cards; a very slight pressure will do, and in this manner the cards do not require to be bent.

Fig. 14.

My readers will doubtless be surprised to hear, that as many as six cards can be thus hidden in the hand, at one time, without being seen; and it will astonish them even more, when I tell them, that a clever sharper will, with the same hand where the cards are concealed, cut and go on with the game, gesticulating in the most natural way, without any difficulty.

[CHAPTER IV.]
THE CARD REPLACED.

Once in possession of the cards which he has abstracted, the Greek, whether the game he is playing be Lansquenet, Baccarat, or Vingt-et-un, replaces them in the pack in such a way, that they will be sure when dealt to return to him.

This trick is the easiest to execute that I have yet described.

The Greek waits, until it is his turn to gather up, either the whole, or a portion of, the pack; then, whilst drawing them towards him, he quietly places the cards he had in reserve on the top, taking care to hide the action, by spreading out his hand over them.

[CHAPTER V.]
THE CARTE A L'ŒIL, OR GLANCE.

In playing, it is sometimes necessary for the Greek to obtain a sight of some particular card in the pack.

In order to do this, he resorts to the following manœuvre:—

One of his little fingers is slipped into the pack, where the card he wishes to see, lies; quick as lightning he glances his eye across it, and with such rapidity is the action performed, that those playing with him cannot see it, particularly as the backs of the cards are turned towards them, and he is gesticulating with his other hand, to draw off their attention.

[CHAPTER VI.]
THE SUBSTITUTION DES JEUX, OR PACK OF CARDS CHANGED.

The substituted pack—The box in the sleeve.

The way this is done depends much on the class of Greek performing the trick.

The high-bred sharper, for instance, very seldom makes use of it; he has other far more subtle methods, unknown to his brother rogue of low life.

The following tricks, however, may be considered as common to Greeks of every shade:—

A sharper has always under his coat, at the back of his trowsers, one or more little pockets, termed finettes, in which are carried the packs of cards he intends substituting for those of the house where he plays. These cards are so placed, that they can be drawn out with great facility, as may be perceived by the sketch on the next page.

Before the play begins, the Greek wanders about the room, in the neighbourhood of the card-tables, with his right hand placed, as shown, on his hip, and seizes a favourable opportunity, when he thinks no one is observing him, to substitute his own pack for those on the table, slipping the latter into a deep pocket called a profonde, which he has under the flap of his coat.

Fig. 15.

Others, more bold in their manœuvres, do not fear to execute this trick before the very eyes of their adversaries.

To do this with ease, pockets are made in the waistcoat, and are called costières, or side pockets,[J] because they are made at the left side, a little above the region of the heart. They are entirely hidden by the coat.

1st. In seating himself at the table, the Greek artfully draws out of one of his pockets the prepared cards, and holds them in readiness in his right hand, as I have before described in the chapter on the "Abstraction of Cards."

2nd. He then, with his left hand, takes up the pack which is on the table, as if to withdraw it from its envelope, and places his own pack on the top, carefully hiding both packs with his right hand.

3rd. He manages, in cutting, to put the false pack at the top, and removes the other, in the manner already related in the chapter on "Abstraction."

4th. Finally, he disposes of the original pack in his large pocket, or profonde.

To accomplish this feat with greater facility, he pretends to draw his chair nearer to the table, which brings his hand in juxtaposition with his pocket.

All the operations above described, may be regarded as one, and are performed with infinite address and promptitude, whilst the Greek is entertaining his adversary with some animated and amusing discourse.

It is needless to say, that the two envelopes of the cards are identical, the Greek of course having seen to that beforehand.

When sharpers find, that they have to be continually changing the packs of cards, and dread detection, should they try the trick too often, they arrange with one of their associates, whom they bribe, by offering him half the profits, to go and take the place of a servant, in those houses or clubs where they intend to cheat.

With such an arrangement, the two Greeks quietly pocket considerable sums. Others, less wary, take no accomplice, but change the cards themselves.

The Greek first finds out the name and address of the tradesman who furnishes the playing cards to the house or club, which he is in the habit of frequenting. He then goes to the shop, and makes a few trifling purchases, just to pave his way. He does this more than once, and returns again and again.

At length, one fine day, he calls at the shop to select, for a friend (he says), a dozen, or half a dozen, packs of cards, according as the shop is a large or a small one.

The next morning, pretending that the cards are not of the colour required, he takes them back again.

The packets being unopened, the shopkeeper has no hesitation in receiving and changing them for others.

But the Greek has passed the night, in opening and re-sealing the packets by a peculiar process known to sharpers.

The cards have been marked by him, before returning them to the shopkeeper, who has them now in his shop. The cheat is accomplished, and the Greek is biding his time.

PART I.
THE BOX IN THE SLEEVE.

There is yet another way of changing the pack, under the very eyes of your adversary. It consists in having a tin box fastened to your arm, under the sleeve of your coat, and which is not perceptible.

In this box, the Greek carries the cards he has marked for his own purposes.

When it is his turn to cut, he stretches out his hand across the table towards the pack, so as to hide it entirely; then, resting his arm lightly on the tablecloth, he presses a spring which opens the box, out of which falls the marked pack,—at the same time that there comes out another spring, which seizes the cards on the table, and draws them into the box.

Before concluding this chapter, I ought to mention that, though all these various tricks are each clever in their way, they cannot be employed indiscriminately.

The operations in question must depend on circumstances, and the manner of employing them should vary, according to whether they be performed in a smoking-tavern, a gambling-house, a drawing-room, or a club.

The Greek knows well what will suit each party with whom he plays, and rarely ventures on the trick without he is sure of succeeding.

[CHAPTER VII.]
THE FALSE SHUFFLE.

False shuffles: The arranged shuffle—The partial shuffle—The fan—The dove-tail.

It may be said that a false shuffle is not cheating, since the cards are but retained in their original order. Such acts, however, are not far removed from cheating, and the persons who are guilty of them may be compared to the receivers of stolen goods, who, though not the actual robbers, are judged to be so by the law.

When the pack of cards has been arranged by the sharper, whether he prepares them beforehand, or only in the presence of his adversary, he must be very careful not to disturb them.

To avoid this, he has recourse to various methods of evading a proper shuffle.

Of these there are four kinds, which vary according to the circumstances required.

They are:

PART I.
THE ARRANGED SHUFFLE.

The arranged shuffle consists in pretending to shuffle, whilst all the time you are arranging the cards, in the order you require them for cheating. Let us suppose, for example, that a Greek, in playing Écarté, places in the pack four cards of the same suit, three of which are trumps, and the fourth is the turn-up card; this he manages to do by arranging the shuffle in the following manner. He divides the pack of cards into two parts, holding one in each hand, as it is usual to do in shuffling in the ordinary way. In mixing the two packs, he knows how to slip in successively, above the four cards, seven others, which will complete the series necessary for the deal.

He then hands them to be cut, makes a false cut, and when he has dealt out the eleven cards, the four remaining are three trumps and the turn-up card.

The arrangement of the game of Piquet, mentioned in another chapter, is a further instance of this trick.

PART II.
THE PARTIAL SHUFFLE.

The partial shuffle is employed for those games, where only a portion of the cards is distributed at a time, such as Écarté. In this instance, we will suppose the Greek to have arranged eleven cards, so as to enable him to win the game, and it is of consequence that these cards should not be disarranged.

He therefore puts these eleven cards at the bottom of the pack, and, at the same time, carefully keeps his little finger between the upper and lower packet, which he avoids mixing, until after dealing the twenty-first card. This done, he performs the saut de coupe a second time, to bring the arranged packet again on the top of the pack, unless, by making the bridge, he gains the same end by forcing his adversary's cut.

PART III.
THE FAN.

The following trick is termed the Fan, because the Greek, to do the false shuffle, spreads the cards out in the shape of a fan. He then divides the pack into two parts, holding, as before, one in each hand; then, by a certain manipulation with the fingers of his right hand, he passes the cards under those in the left, which, to the spectator, gives the effect of mixing the cards; but this is far from being the case. The cards retain the position they would have done if the pack had been cut, as the upper packet has passed beneath the lower one. The operation, consequently, requires to be gone through a second time, to bring the cards into their original position. This shuffle may remain in the above condition as long as the Greek finds it convenient.

PART IV.
THE DOVE-TAIL.

The ways of doing the false shuffle are numerous, each Greek having some special method of his own. All of them are more or less derived from the principles I have just described.

It would take too long, as well as be useless, to enter into the details of these proceedings, as they are nearly all the same.

The false shuffle, with which I am about to close this chapter, is a peculiar one, and is very often used by sharpers.

To prevent any suspicions which might be raised by the use of the preceding shuffle, the Greek sometimes employs the Dove-tail, which consists in separating the cards into two packs, and then shuffling them one with the other; but, instead of finishing the shuffle by equalising the pack, the Greek manages to leave them at an angle as they are represented in figure 16 below.

Fig. 16.

Then begins an operation which is hidden by his right hand.

The Greek, after having passed packet No. 1 across packet No. 2, twists round the lower portion in a semicircle towards the right, which completely separates it from the other, and allows him to replace it beneath packet No. 1, as it originally was.

[CHAPTER VIII.]
DOCTORED CARDS.

Cartes biseautées—Tinted cards—Sticky or slippery cards—Slanting cards—Pricked cards—Cards with indented edges—Wavy cards—Chequered cards—Marked cards.

PART I.
THE CARTES BISEAUTÉES.

The Biseautée Card was one of the principal methods of cheating in the last century. The trick, at that period, was only known to the adepts of the higher ranks, and with it they succeeded in victimising numbers of people.

It is now chiefly made use of in public-houses, for it is so plain and palpable an artifice, that it could not fail to be discovered by more intelligent people than those who frequent these resorts.

The real signification of "biseautées" cards is, that they are larger at one end than at the other, as in figure 17.

To do this, the Greek, with a pair of sharp scissors, cuts both sides of every card, beginning at the twentieth part of an inch, and going off to nothing.

Fig. 17.

All the cards being equally clipped at one end, if they are placed contrariwise, it is evident the edges will protrude the smallest bit possible beyond the other cards, and can be easily discovered by the sharper, however carefully they may have been shuffled by the opposite party.

What answers with one card, will do so equally with all. Thus, we will suppose the Greek has put all the court cards one way, and the common cards the other, he can, by feeling the cards in cutting, cut a court card or not, as he pleases.

This I merely give as one example, for slanting cards can be used in various other ways.

Some Greeks make use of cards cut on both sides, in two opposite ways: it is the same thing under another form.

For instance, the cards represented below are cut so that the edge of some are convex, as in figure 18, and others concave, as in figure 19.

Figs. 18 and 19.

The result, with these cards, is the same as with the preceding, only that the latter afford a greater scope for cheating.

The more expert a sharper is, the less is it necessary to cut the edges of the cards; indeed, I have seen some so slightly cut, that you were obliged to examine them with the greatest minuteness to find it out.

PART II.
THE TINTED, OR STAINED CARD.

When white cards are not of first-rate quality, many of them are slightly tinted or stained; that is to say, the purity of the white varies. This imperfection is caused by the bad quality of the card-board of which they are manufactured.

From these slight shades, the Greek can, after seeing them for a few moments, recognise many of the cards.

If there are no blemishes or stains on them, the Greek contrives to give them various tints, which he alone can perceive. To this end, he rubs very lightly over, with a cloth dipped in blacklead, such of the cards as he wishes to know again.

The person with whom the Greek is playing, even if he were warned of this trick, could scarcely observe the marks. It requires the lynx eyes of the sharper to distinguish the imperceptible shades.

We ought also to mention that the Greeks have each their particular forte. One who has an excellent eyesight, and sensitive touch, will make use of the marked cards; another, for other reasons, will have recourse to sleight of hand.

PART III.
THE ADHERENT, OR SLIDING CARDS.

By the foregoing it will be observed, that a Greek is always ready to profit by the slightest differences in the cards; but what my readers will scarcely find credible is, that even a pack of new cards, when first taken out of its envelope, will furnish him with the means and signs of recognising the court from the plain cards. This cheat is most practicable, when the cards have not been kept in a perfectly dry place.

The Greek, in dealing, presses his left thumb on the cards, as if to disengage the upper ones, and push them towards his right hand. When the cards are damp, the plain ones slide more easily than the court cards, the reason for which, is to be thus accounted for:—

That in manufacturing the court cards, and in order to give a brightness to their colours, a preparation of gum is used, which is easily affected by the damp, and becomes slightly sticky; this is why they do not slip with such facility as the others.

The higher class of sharpers are much in the habit of using this trick, which they perform with a sensitiveness of touch of astounding delicacy.

The lower order of Greek is obliged to prepare the pack beforehand, and rubs the court cards lightly over with soap, and the others he paints with an extremely pure resin.

PART IV.
THE "HORS D'ÉQUERRE," OR SLANTING CARDS.

I was once requested by a magistrate, to examine some packs of cards which had been seized in a gambling-house, and many of which had been used for the game of Vingt-et-un. I acceded to his request, and it was only owing to my knowledge of mechanism, that I was enabled to discover the trick, by means of which the banquier of the gambling-table could distinguish, whilst dealing, whether the card he took from the top of the pack was higher or lower than a ten.

All the court cards and aces were cut on the slant at the top, so as to prevent them being quite straight, as in figure 20, but much less so in reality than is here represented.

Fig. 20.

To discover this very slight alteration it required a most practised eye; but slight as it was, it was sufficient for the sharper; and, according to these indications, he either took the upper card, if it were to his advantage, or dealt to himself the lower one by the "filage."[K] In this manner he could also, at the end of the deal, retain or give himself the card he required.

PART V.
THE "POINTÉES," OR PRICKED CARDS.

These marks are made by the Greek to distinguish all the high cards.

With the point of a pin, a little blunted, he pricks the card in the corner at the side of the picture, so as to produce a minute elevation on the upper surface.

Some Greeks improve on this trick, by pricking between the two card-boards, and afterwards pasting them together again. In this way, nothing is to be seen on the upper part of the card but a small roughness, which, should it ever be remarked, would pass for a defect in the card-board.

Others, who are still more adroit, instead of making any mark above, do it from beneath, and in this manner the mark is completely hidden by the painting, and can only be discovered by the touch.

PART VI.
THE CARDS "MORFILÉES," OR WITH INDENTED EDGES.

This trick very much resembles the preceding one, only that it is done in presence of the dupe.

Each time that a card which will be favourable to his play, passes through the hands of the Greek, he makes a small dent with his nail on the edge of it. This mark is easily felt by the Greek.

It must be confessed, that those amongst the Greeks who are adepts at this trick, have an extreme delicacy of touch, which they preserve by always wearing gloves, when they are not playing at cards. Some of them even rub the ends of their fingers with pumice stone, or dip them in certain acids, which give extreme sensibility to the skin.

PART VII.
THE "ONDULÉES," OR WAVY CARDS.

The above marks, or waves, are also made whilst playing.

When the Greek observes any cards, which will suit him to perform the trick he is about to play, he makes, at the bottom of the left-hand corner, a little fold, or arch, inwards. This alteration, be it ever so slight, produces a kind of lustre on the card, which the eye of the Greek can immediately detect.

This trick is generally employed in cheating at Piquet. The Greek, in this way, marks all the aces and high cards in any of the suits.

With certain arts of legerdemain, which I have before alluded to, he can so arrange all, or part, of his hand, that no play of his adversary, be it ever so good, could stand against it.

PART VIII.
THE "TAROTÉES," OR FIGURED OR CHECQUERED CARDS.

It often happens that, in packs of playing-cards, the backs of which are ornamented with figures and designs, these ornaments are not placed exactly in the same spot on each card.

If examined attentively, it will be seen, that the designs are not always the same distance from the edge of the card. The manufacturer himself, and players in general, pay little attention to these irregularities, but the Greek turns them to account, and makes them useful in his tricks.

By the time the cards have been dealt two or three times round, he can distinguish many of them.

Sharpers are themselves often the manufacturers of their own cards, and can, therefore, arrange and place their designs where they please.

For instance, let us suppose that the design consists of a series of lozenges, placed one above the other. The Greek would so arrange them that, at the edge of the card, the lozenge should be entire for the ace. Then, as it approaches the edge, it is cut in half for the queen, quarterly for the king, and three-quarters for the knave.

In the same way, on the upper side of the card, the lozenges, by similar arrangements, would point out the spades, hearts, clubs, or diamonds, and also show the principal cards in the game of Piquet.

All this would seem to be the effect of chance, and no one could assert that there was anything fraudulent.

PART IX.
THE MARKED, OR SPOTTED CARDS.

This trick of marking cards, is equal to any of the most refined abbreviations used in stenography, as here, by the aid of a single spot, any one of the thirty-two cards in the game of Piquet may be known.

We will imagine, for example, a design formed of spots, or some other device, arranged symmetrically, as these sorts of patterns usually are. For instance, as in figure 21.

The first large spot, beginning from the top of the card, on the left hand, will represent a heart; the second, in descending, a diamond, the third a club, and the fourth a spade.

Now, if, by the side of any of these, another spot is added, it will immediately serve to show what card it is.

Fig. 21.

The mark should be placed near one of the original spots, as shown below in figure 22, which, when placed at the top, shows it is an ace; going round to the right of it, the next spot would be a king, the third spot a queen, the fourth a knave, and so on to the seven.

Fig. 22.

It must be clearly understood that only one spot is to be made, as in [figure 21], where that which is added to the third spot, would (according to the rules I have laid down), mark the eight of clubs.

After these explanations, I feel convinced, my reader has already made up his mind, never again to play with cards on which there are devices.

"If these are the sort of tricks one is subject to," exclaims he, "I'll take care that I never play with anything but plain cards again."

Unfortunately, even these can be tampered with, as I have already shown in speaking of tinted cards; of which I will now give another proof.

In the year 1849, the judge of the Criminal Court of the Seine, begged me to examine a hundred and fifty packs of cards, which were supposed to have been tampered with.

They were found in the possession of a man, whose antecedents were far from being as pure, as the colour of his cards.

The cards were in fact all white, and had hitherto defied the most minute inspection.

It was impossible for the most practised eye to discover, that they had been altered or marked in any way.

They seemed all of the best quality.

I spent nearly a fortnight in examining (not only with my naked eye, but with a strong magnifying glass) the card board, the shape, and the almost imperceptible shades, of each of these one hundred and fifty packs of cards.

I could detect nothing; and tired out, I was going to give the same opinion as the experts who had previously examined them.

"There is certainly nothing wrong with these cards," exclaimed I, one evening, in a pettish tone, throwing the pack from me across the table.

All at once, on the shining back of one of the cards, near one of the corners, I thought I saw a dull-looking spot, which had before escaped me. On looking close at it, it disappeared; but strange to say, as I went far off from it, it re-appeared.

"How glad I am," cried I aloud, enthusiastically. "Now I see what it is. It's all right. This then is the mark!" and following the rules, used by sharpers, I satisfied myself, that on every card there was the same spot, which, being placed in various parts, were distinctive signs of the card and the suit. The following was the way the thing was done.

We must imagine the cards divided into eight divisions perpendicularly, and four horizontally, as in [figure 23]. The former will indicate the value of the card, the latter the suit. The mark is placed where each of these divisions intersect one another. The above is the way the cheat is performed, and practice does the rest.

I must be allowed to decline mentioning the method, by which these mysterious marks are made on the cards. My object being, as I have already stated, more than once, to expose the tricks of sharpers, but not to show how they are done. Suffice it to say, that when looked at closely, these spots are invisible; but when viewed from afar, the reflection of a strong light makes the card shine, but leaves the spot dull.

At first sight, it would seem a difficult task to distinguish one card from another, by an isolated spot on the back of it. However, if my readers will attend to what I have told them, and look at the example given in figure 23, they will see that it does not belong to the second, nor the fourth perpendicular division; and by the same rule, they will observe, that the spot is in the second horizontal division, and represents, therefore, the queen of diamonds.

Fig. 23.

From all this, it is evident that a swindler plays and stakes—I will not say his honour, but his liberty, against fortune; and that, by reason of the importance of the stake, he ought to have devoted the most serious attention to an art, on which all his future depends.

[CHAPTER IX.]
THE CHAPLET, OR ROSARY.

The rosary is a particular arrangement of the cards, according to certain words in a sentence, which is learnt by heart. In other words, it is a sort of mnemonics, or artificial memory, to enable people to cheat at play. There are several sorts of "chapelets," more or less ingenious. The best are those which recall to one's mind a feeling, a thought, or even only an amusing combination.

One of the oldest rosaries consists of two Latin verses, every word in each of which represents one of the fifty-two cards of a pack—

Unus, quinque, novem, famulus, sex, quatuor, duo,
Rex, septem, octo, fœmina, trina, decem;

which may be translated thus:

Ace, five, nine, knave, six, four, two,
King, seven, eight, queen, three, ten.

These thirteen cards are also arranged according to their suits, namely—spades, hearts, clubs, diamonds, as follows:

and so on, by following the words of the rosary and the suit, to the last card.

I will now give a sentence or rosary, for the thirty-two cards used in the game of Piquet—

Le Roi dix-huit ne valait pas ses dames;

Or—

Le Roi, dix, huit, neuf, valet, as, sept, dame.

Which means—

The king, ten, eight, nine, knave, ace, seven, queen.

In this, as well as in the preceding example, the cards are classed according to their suits, as above described; only, at the end of the rosary after the queen, instead of putting the suit which follows, for the king which comes after, they arrange so that the king and queen should be of the same suit. Were this not done, one would require four kings of spades, four tens of hearts, &c., &c. The following example will show what I mean: