2.
In the week that followed Hugh saw a good deal of Paul Vulning. The latter liked to swing round the “Cheese” in his long low carmine-coloured car. He leaned back, driving with studied nonchalance. On one occasion, he narrowly shaved Hugh and Mr. MacTaggart. The big Scotchman shook a wrathful fist after him.
“The dawmed swanker! Ye’d think he wis rinnin’ the place. Ah’ll gie him a puck on the gub yin o’ thae days that’ll teach him tae look doon his neb at folk better than himsel’. I’ve got ma eye on him. I’ve seen him aboot a lot wi’ Mrs. Emslie lately. Ye can tak’ me word for it he’s up tae nae guid.”
And sure enough the very next day Hugh saw Mrs. Emslie and her daughter in the carmine car. Vulning had a squint-eyed chauffeur who sat with him as he drove. The mother and girl were behind. On their return he saw them again; but this time, June Emslie was in front with the chauffeur, while Vulning was behind with the mother.
That evening, he met the two women once more,—this time on the Avenue des Fleurs. As he passed them in the darkness, he heard the mother’s voice tense with anger. He never again saw the daughter waiting in the atrium, but Mrs. Emslie, her white cheeks painted, her eyes burning, gambled more desperately than ever.
Hugh himself was trying a new system which was behaving rather decently. He put two louis on the manque and a louis on one of the transversals of the passe. If it came manque he won a louis; if he struck the transversal he won seven louis. He did not play until certain indications told him he had the odds in his favour. He had to a curious degree that sense of probability which is so valuable to the player of roulette. Occasionally he had a hard tussle with the bank, but on the whole he averaged a hundred francs a day. In addition to this he made two louis for the running of the house. He was greatly pleased and used to say to Margot:
“Isn’t it jolly to think that every mouthful we eat, we make the Casino pay for? Doesn’t it make the food taste ever so much sweeter?”
“That’s not much of a compliment to my cooking.”
“You’re cooking’s delicious, my child. It’s the things you don’t cook. By the way I made a couple of louis extra to-day, so here’s something for you. You can regard it as a present from the Société.”
The gift was a pair of suede gloves. It was a joke of which he never tired, that of giving her a present and saying: “With the compliments of the Casino.”