“As for an hour or two at chemin-de-fer, baccarat, or roulette,” remarked Sengoun, “I am not averse to a––”
“Watch him! The waiter who is taking his order 352 may know who you are—may be telling that gambler.... I believe he did! Now, let us see what happens....”
Sengoun, delighted at the prospect of an eventuality, blandly emptied his goblet and smiled generally upon everybody.
“I hope he will make our acquaintance and ask us to play,” he said. “I’m very lucky at chemin-de-fer. And if I lose I shall conclude that there is trickery. Which would make it very lively for everybody,” he added with a boyish smile. But his dark eyes began to glitter and he showed his beautiful, even teeth when he laughed.
“Ha!” he said. “A little what you call a mix-up might not come amiss! That gives one an appetite; that permits one to perspire; that does good to everybody and makes one sleep soundly! Shall we, as you say in America, start something?”
Neeland, thinking of Ali-Baba and Golden Beard and of their undoubted instigation by telegraph of the morning’s robbery, wondered whether the rendezvous of the robbers might not possibly be here in the Café des Bulgars.
The gang of Americans in the train had named Kestner, Breslau, and Weishelm—the one man of the gang whom he had never seen—as prospective partners in this enterprise.
Here, somewhere in this building, were their gambling headquarters. Was there any possible chance that the stolen box and its contents might have been brought here for temporary safety?
Might it not now be hidden somewhere in this very building by men too cunning to risk leaving the city when every train and every road would be watched 353 within an hour of the time that the robbery was committed?
Leaning back carelessly on the lounge and keeping his eyes on the people in the café, Neeland imparted these ideas to Sengoun in a low voice—told him everything he knew in regard to the affair, and asked his opinion.