There was a croupier three or four seats away from the girl. She leant forward, being now a little more accustomed to what she was doing, "Zero, s'il vous plait, monsieur," she said, tossing the coin to him.
"En plein, mademoiselle?" he asked.
Ethel turned to her mother. "What does he mean?" she said. Mrs. McMahon interposed. "Oui, en plein," she replied to the man. "You see, Ethel, it is rather unusual to stake a coin upon a single number, because you have thirty-five chances against you. Most people do what you did just now—cover several numbers and be content with smaller winnings. But you said 'nothing,' and it may be an omen."
Again the ball spun, and now, in full consciousness of what was happening, Ethel knew excitement so fierce and keen, so utterly overpowering and absorbing, that it burned within her like a flame, and frightened her by its intensity.
Her coin was the only one upon zero, which is the bank's number, for when it turns up all the stakes upon the board are taken by the bank, except those placed upon red or black, or the other even chances.
Dame Fortune was very kind to-night, for with a slight emphasis the croupier at the wheel called out "Zero," and several people within her vicinity turned to look with envy or amusement, as the case might be, at the beautiful girl who had alone staked upon the big white "O."
They paid her in notes this time, and Mrs. McMahon leant back in her chair with a gasp. "Fool! Fool that I was," she whispered, her hands clasping and unclasping themselves. "You had the money; you might have put on the maximum of nine louis, and you would have won, my dear, you would have won, and you would have won 6,300 francs—£252!"
"But, mother," Ethel whispered back, "I have won seven hundred francs already, and three hundred with the first spin, that is a thousand francs—almost my year's salary at the school!"
"You have been very fortunate" said the old lady. "And now let us go."
"Let us go, mother? No, look; they are beginning to spin again. Let me try once more?"