Of these acquaintances the only one with whom he became in any way friendly was a one-legged Irishman with red hair, Major Fitzoswald. He played a dashing game, always building around the number thirty-two. When he won he won heavily; but more often he lost. He had a jolly little wife and four children, ranging from a baby to a girl of seven; and when he had finished gambling in the afternoon, he would hobble out of the Casino on his crutches and join them in the sand pit near the dove-cot. It was said that he had lost his leg in a glorious action on the Somme front.
One day Hugh was amazed to see Mr. Gimp actually playing. The little man was standing erect and business-like at the trente-et-quarante table opposite the American millionairess. She had a tiny mannikin in front of her as a mascot. On one finger was an immense diamond, and around her neck glimmered a double string of superb pearls. Her blonde beauty suggested pearls; and her wide-set blue eyes, mobile mouth and very strong white teeth made her look like a happy child. Every time she played Mr. Gimp would play on the opposite chance. But while the honey-coloured beauty threw on heaps of placques, now rising to rose, now dropping to azure, Mr. Gimp played only a modest louis. Behind his hand he whispered to Hugh:
“This is the best system of all. It’s known as ‘playing the corpse.’ You get opposite a big player and play the contrary. When they have to make a progression, you win on all its terms. It goes without saying they’re dead ones from the start. The Casino will get their money. You’re playing on the side of the Casino, that’s all. And while the Casino is taking big risks, you are taking small ones. ‘Playing the corpse,’—it’s the only sure system I know. It’s a shame to take the money. You know I hate gambling like hell; but if there’s easy money lying round a man’s a damn fool if he don’t pick it up.”
When Hugh returned late in the afternoon the beautiful American was still playing, and opposite her, methodically putting on his single louis, was the pertinacious Mr. Gimp.
4.
One day Hugh arrived home for luncheon looking exultantly happy. The table was neatly set, and the girl was in the little cabinet where she cooked.
“Hurrah! Margot. I’ve got something for you.”
“I can’t come for a minute. I’m cooking two soles I bought in the market. I saw you coming, so I put them on.”
“All right. How jolly the place looks. How nice you keep everything. We’ll both be sorry to leave it.”
The girl turned suddenly. Her voice trembled.