PLAYING FOR HIGH STAKES
Violet glanced at her watch with an exclamation of dismayed annoyance. She leaned appealingly towards the croupier.
"But one coup more, monsieur," she pleaded. "Indeed your clock is fast."
The croupier shook his head. He was a man of gallantry so far as his profession permitted, and he was a great admirer of the beautiful Englishwoman, but the rules of the Club were strict.
"Madame," he pointed out, "it is already five minutes past eight. It is absolutely prohibited that we start another coup after eight o'clock. If madame will return at ten o'clock, the good fortune will without doubt be hers."
She looked up at Draconmeyer, who was standing at her elbow.
"Did you ever know anything more hatefully provoking!" she complained. "For two hours the luck has been dead against me. But for a few of my carrés turning up, I don't know what would have happened. And now at last my numbers arrive. I win en plein and with all the carrés and chevaux. This time it was twenty-seven. I win two carrés and I move to twenty, and he will not go on."
"It is the rule," Draconmeyer reminded her. "It is bad fortune, though. I have been watching the run of the table. Things have been coming more your way all the time. I think that the end of your ill-luck has arrived. Tell me, are you hungry?"
"Not in the least," she answered pettishly. "I hate the very thought of dinner."
"Then why do we not go on to the Casino?" Draconmeyer suggested. "We can have a sandwich and a glass of wine there, and you can continue your vein."