The Kingmakers

by Burton Egbert Stevenson

It is supposed to be more select, this club, and the proviso is made of requiring an introduction; but introducers can be picked up any morning on the terrace, or the management of any of the hotels will supply them if requested; so that any one of fairly presentable appearance and willing to pay a hundred and fifty francs for the privilege, may gamble there as long as his money lasts.

The club is housed in a beautiful building of white stone just around the corner from the Hotel de Paris, so Selden had only a few steps to go. His card and the payment of the fee admitted him, for he had been “introduced” the year before, and in a moment the electric lift had carried him noiselessly to the gaming-room de luxe which occupies the length of the upper story.

It was filled with a crowd of which at least two-thirds were women—the same sort of women he had seen earlier in the hotel lounge—and the air was stale and heavy with perfume and tobacco. It was a strangely silent crowd, sitting or standing with eyes intent upon the tables, the only sounds being those incident to the game: the voices of the croupiers inviting their patrons to place their bets, the quick whir of the ivory ball about the rim of the roulette wheel, the warning that no more bets could be placed, the rattle of the ball falling into a compartment, the announcement of the winning number, and the clatter of the little rakes pulling in the bank’s winnings. It is less picturesque and exciting than in the days before the war, for then the wagers were made in gold, and there was the clink of coins and the gleam of yellow metal which men have always found so fascinating; but now gold circulates no more in Europe, and wagers are made with disks of coloured celluloid, purchased from the croupiers with the paper notes which have been pouring so freely from the printing-presses. And if one wins, it is with this same flimsy paper that one is paid. A fool’s game, truly!

Selden threaded his way among the groups, looking for the countess and her companions, but he succeeded in discovering only the prince. He was seated at the end of a table next to the croupier, and at the moment Selden caught sight of him he was drawing toward himself a pile of notes which the croupier in charge of the bank had just counted out and pushed toward him. He seemed to be well known—or perhaps one of the attachés had noised his identity about as an advertisement—and a curious crowd was watching his proceedings.

Selden assured himself that neither the countess nor Lappo was in the rooms, then he returned to watch, too, for he was curious to learn something of the prince’s personality. One glance at his face was enough to show that gambling was indeed, as the countess had said, in his blood. He was the true type. Utterly oblivious of the crowd about him, his dark skin aglow with inward fire, but entirely calm and collected—cold as ice, indeed!—he was playing without hesitation or timidity, relying apparently upon some inward guidance which he trusted implicitly and upon which he was ready to wager his last franc. With a run of luck, a gambler of this type sometimes wins enormously; but, on the other hand, when luck is bad it requires not many turns of the wheel to take away all he has. And the wheel turns very rapidly!

At this moment, the prince was having a run of luck, and the crowd was watching to see how far it would take him, while a few were trying to follow his plays and get the advantage of his luck while it lasted. He was playing the number twenty-seven, with maximums not only en plein, but also on the cheveaux, the carrés and the transversales—a total of about six thousand francs—and twenty-seven had issued three times in the last fifteen plays. In other words, in fifteen plays the prince had lost seventy thousand francs and won two hundred thousand. And as Selden watched, twenty-seven came again and another sixty thousand was added to the prince’s winnings.

A murmur of excitement ran through the watching group, for the chef de partie had rung a little bell and had sent the attendant who answered it to the cashier for more money—which is as near to breaking the bank as any one can come.

“It is now that he should quit,” said a woman at Selden’s side. “If he keeps on he will only lose.”

Perhaps the voice reached the prince’s ears, or perhaps some such thought was in his mind, for he hesitated, as his stake was swept away after the next play, and passed his hand before his eyes, as though awaking from a dream. He tried again, however, and lost; a second time, and lost; a third time, and lost; then he tossed a thousand-franc note to the croupier, folded up his winnings and thrust them into his pocket, and made his way through a respectful crowd to the buffet.

It was not until then that Selden perceived the prince had a companion. A blonde young man who had been sitting next to him rose as he did, with an approving nod, and disappeared into the buffet with him. Selden scarcely had time to look at him, but he got the impression that he was very young, and also that he was an American. The prince had found a new victim, perhaps....