"That's what they call 'zero.' You can bet on it like any number; but when it comes, if you're not on it, all your stakes go—biff!—except on the simple chances, when you are put in 'prison,' or else you can take back half. Lots of people like zero better than anything, because they think the croupiers try to spin it, for the good of the bank. It's called l'ami de la maison."
"How nice and friendly," said Mary. "I'll put money on zero. What's the maximum?"
"The same as on the other numbers en plein: nine louis."
"Then I'll have that on zero," said Mary.
Many players followed her lead, and every one was calling out "zero" and pushing or throwing coins to the croupiers to be staked on that chance.
"Zero!"
Mary was paid nine times thirty-five louis, six thousand three hundred francs, and the others who, superstitiously following her lead, had risked five-franc pieces and louis on l'ami de la maison, shared her luck in different degrees.
"Zero once more, please, Madame," said Mary to her companion.
"But no! impossible! It will be something else."
"Perhaps. Still—I will try."