For a moment I admit I hung back. Then I rallied. There are times in a man's life when he has got to show a flash of the old bulldog pluck, don't you know, if he wants to preserve his self-respect. I did then. My grip was still unpacked. I told my man to put it on a cab. And in about two ticks I was bowling off to the club. I left for England next day by the Lusitania.
About three weeks later I fetched up at Nice. You can't walk far at Nice without bumping into a casino. The one I hit my first evening was the Casino Municipale in the Place Massina. It looked more or less of a Home From Home, so I strolled in.
There was quite a crowd round the boule tables, and I squashed in. And when I'd worked through into the front rank I happened to look down the table, and there was Edwin, with a green Tyrolese hat hanging over one ear, clutching out for a lot of five-franc pieces which the croupier was steering toward him at the end of a rake.
I was feeling lonesome, for I knew no one in the place, so I edged round in his direction.
Halfway there I heard my name called, and there was Mrs. Darrell.
I saw the whole thing in a flash. Old man Craye hadn't done a thing to prevent it—apart from being eccentric, he was probably glad that Edwin had had the sense to pick out anybody half as good a sort—and the marriage had taken place. And here they were on their honeymoon.
I wondered what Florence was thinking of it.
"Well, well, well, here we all are," I said. "I've just seen Edwin. He seems to be winning."
"Dear boy!" she said. "He does enjoy it so. I think he gets so much more out of life than he used to, don't you?"
"Sure thing. May I wish you happiness? Why didn't you let me know and collect the silver fish-slice?"