"Like to play roulette?"
"Like to try."
They climbed into a taxi. Shayne gave an address and they were driven to another quarter of the town. In a room packed with people in evening clothes they played for an hour. Several people spoke to Shayne and he introduced Hugo to them. Shayne won and Hugo lost. They went out into the night. The streets were quieter in that part of town. Two girls accosted them.
"That gives me an idea," Shayne said. "Let's find a phone. Maybe we can get Marcelle and Claudine."
Marcelle and Claudine met them at the door of the old house. Their arms were laden with champagne bottles. The interior of the dwelling belied its cold, grey, ancient stones. Hugo did not remember much of what followed that evening. Short, unrelated fragments stuck in his mind—Shayne chasing the white form of Marcelle up and down the stairs; himself in a huge bath-tub washing a back in front of him, his surprise when he saw daylight through the wooden shutters of the house.
Someone was shaking him. "Come on, soldier. The leave's up."
He opened his eyes and collected his thoughts. He grinned at Shayne. "All right. But if I had to defend myself right now—I'd fail against a good strong mouse."
"We'll fix that. Hey! Marcelle! Got any Fernet-Branca?"
The girl came with two large glasses of the pick-me-up. Hugo swallowed the bitter brown fluid and shuddered. Claudine awoke. "Chéri!" she sighed, and kissed him.
They sat on the edge of the bed. "Boy!" Hugo said. "What a binge!"