“Poor old chap!” thought Hugh, “he doesn’t know what’s in front of him. Pathetic! Maybe another Casino tragedy.”
3.
As he was sitting in the Café de Paris that evening listening to the music, Hugh idly watched the entrance to the Casino with its four great lanterns. In the softened lustre its pale yellow stone took on a mellow radiance almost onyxlike. Seen through the palms with the stars for a background it was like a gleaming palace of delight, poised over the mystery of the sea.
Into the pool of light from the doorway swished glossy limousines from which descended elegantly dressed people. One, a very tall man, mounted the steps and paused for a moment. He had a spade-shaped beard, a swarthy face, and a hooked nose.
“First time I’ve seen that chap,” thought Hugh. “Looks like a grandee of old Castile, but is probably an Armenian money-changer.”
Just at that moment Mr. Tope came bustling up. “I say,” said Hugh, “who’s that hidalgo-looking johnny on the steps?”
Mr. Tope screwed a monocle into his right eye. “Don’t know exactly. Some say he’s a South American, ex-president of some small republic who got away with the state treasure. Wouldn’t be surprised. He has a vulturish look. The scum of the world find their way here, and as long as they have money they are welcome. By the way, I hear great things of you, winning maximums and so on. Congratulations, young man! Any one who can get ahead of that institution over there has my profound admiration. You know, my boy, they’re making a million a week; and they say there’s a suicide a day. I believe that’s an exaggeration, though. If they put it at six a week they might be nearer the truth. I suppose you’ve heard of the latest one?...”
“No.”
“That big man with the skull cap; they used to call him ‘Cheero.’”
“Really!”