“I don’t mean that sort of ‘good,’” explained Neeland, laughing. “I mean that I wish to look about up there—explore––”
“Quite right, old fellow—always right! But—here’s an idea! I could stand at the head of the stairs and throw them down as they mounted, while you had leisure to look around for your stolen box––”
“My dear Prince Erlik, we’ve nothing to shoot with, and it’s likely they have. There’s only one way to get upstairs with any chance of learning anything useful. And that is to start a row between ourselves.” And, raising his voice as though irritated, he called for the reckoning, adding in a tone perfectly audible to anybody in the vicinity that he knew where roulette was played, and that he was going whether or not his friend accompanied him.
Sengoun, delighted, recognised his cue and protested 355 in loud, nasal tones that the house to which his comrade referred was suspected of unfair play; and a noisy dispute began, listened to attentively by the pretty but brightly painted cashier, the waiters, the gérant, and every guest in the neighbourhood.
“As for me,” cried Sengoun, feigning to lose his temper, “I have no intention of being tricked. I was not born yesterday—not I! If there is to be found an honest wheel in Paris that would suit me. Otherwise, I go home to bed!”
“It is an honest wheel, I tell you––”
“It is not! I know that place!”
“Be reasonable––”
“Reasonable!” repeated Sengoun appealingly to the people around them. “Permit me to ask these unusually intelligent gentlemen whether it is reasonable to play roulette in a place where the wheel is notoriously controlled and the management a dishonest one! Could a gentleman be expected to frequent or even to countenance places of evil repute? Messieurs, I await your verdict!” And he folded his arms dramatically.
Somebody said, from a neighbouring table: