Where was her brother? If this should be the girl of the railway coach! I half arose, as if to follow. Chance whispered in my ear: "Of what use?" I laid a stake on 29. In less than forty minutes I had nothing left but three days' board at the hotel. I fingered my gold cuff-buttons. The rubies were at least worth two hundred francs—No; I would not part with them. They were heirlooms. They should be buried with me.
I forgot all about the beautiful girl and her despair. I, Robert Chadwick, of an old and respected family, once wealthy, had reached the end of my rope. It would make interesting reading in the papers. Not a penny to my name, not a roof over my head, unless I swallowed my pride and begged of my sister. I could send home for nothing, because I had nothing.
"Make your game, gentlemen," said the bald-headed croupier.
I sat there, stupidly watching the ball. It rolled into zero, and the fat English brewer added three hundred and fifty louis to his ill-gotten gains. I experienced the wild desire to spring upon him and cram his wealth down his fat throat. What right had he to win when he had millions backing him? I felt through my clothes again, and the croupier eyed me coldly.
"Never mind, monsieur," I said to him, with a snarling laugh; "I have paid for my chair to-night."
"Twenty-nine wins, black and odd!"
My number! It repeated. The brewer laughed as he heard my oath.
"Here is your louis, monsieur," cried a voice over my shoulder. A louis dropped in front of me. I looked up. It was the irregular lady to whom I had given the gold upon entering.
I threw a kiss at her as she danced away. She had won three thousand francs at red-and-black. I spun the coin in the air and let it rest where it fell. From where I sat it looked as if it had split upon 17 and 20. Twenty came up, and I expected to receive at least half the stake. But the croupier warned me back with the rake. He and an attendant peered searchingly at the coin, then beckoned to me to observe. The breadth of a hair separated the rim of the coin from the line. I had lost.
"Damnation!" I arose and made my way through the crowd. I gained the outer air, biting my mustache. Till that moment I had never measured the extent of my vituperative vocabulary. I swore till I was out of breath. I cursed Smeed for having aroused the gambling devil in my veins; I cursed my lack of will power; I cursed the luck which had followed me these ten months; I cursed Wall Street, which had been the primal means of bringing me to this destitution. Oh, I tell you, gentlemen, that fury burned up at least five years of my life. I must have gesticulated extravagantly, for a guardian of the peace approached me.