The first time she played the “tailleur” dealt the cards quickly, one by one, then cried, “Six, quatre, rouge gagne et couleur perd.”
She had lost. But next time she tossed two notes upon the scarlet diamond before her and won. She doubled her stake, won again, and then allowed the cards to be dealt several times without risking anything. Presently, she hesitated, but suddenly counted out five one hundred-franc notes, folded them in half and carelessly tossed them upon the red. Again the cards were dealt one by one upon the leather-covered square; again the monotonous voice sounded, and again came her winnings towards her, five notes folded together on the end of the croupier’s rake.
So engrossed had George become in the game, that he noticed nothing of what was transpiring around him. Had he not been so deeply interested in the play of this woman whom his father had designated as his wife, his attention would probably have been attracted by a curious incident.
At the moment when the cards had been dealt, a man seated at the end of the opposite table, who, with his companion had won a considerable sum, raised his head, and, for the first time, noticed amid the excited expectant crowd, that it was a woman who had been successful at the other table.
The man was Zertho. Next instant, however, his face went white. In his eyes there was a look of abject terror when he identified the lucky player. With a sudden movement he put his hand to his head to avoid recognition, and bending quickly to his companion, gasped,—
“Look, Brooker! Can’t you see who’s in front? Good God! why there’s ‘The Golden Hand.’ Quick! We must fly!”