The Prince, on the contrary, shrugged his shoulders, and laughing said,—
“She’s annoyed. She’ll return in a minute or two, when she knows you’ve won. Now that she’s gone I’m going to risk a little myself.”
At that moment two players rose from their chairs, and the pair so well-known to the croupiers and attendants “marked” their places. The man sitting before the red and black disc which slowly revolved while the players laid down their coin, gave both men a little nod of recognition.
“Messieurs, faites vos jeux,” cried the croupier.
“What’s your fancy? The impair?” Zertho inquired of his companion in the same tone as was his wont long ago.
“Of course,” the other replied, selecting at the same moment three notes from those in his hand, and tossing them over upon the marked square indicated.
Once more sounded the monotonous cry, “Rien ne va plus!” The croupier sat immovable as one joyless, hopeless, and impassionate, a veritable machine raking in and paying out gold and silver and notes without caring one jot whether the bank gained or lost. The ball was an instant later sent on its way, and Brooker watching, saw it suddenly spring about and fall.
Again he won.
With one elbow resting upon the table he gathered up his winnings with that impassive manner which marks the professional gamester as one apart. Whether he gained or lost Erle Brooker never made sign, except sometimes when he lost more heavily than usual he would perhaps smile a trifle bitterly. Already the furrows were showing in his brow, and his deep-set eyes watched keenly the run of the game as time after time he would hesitate, apparently reflecting, until the ball was already in motion, and then toss his notes into the “manque” or “passe,” the first being the numbers 1 to 18, and the latter 19 to 36, or place them upon the lines of the various numbered squares, whichever he deemed wisest for the composite chances of a “sixain,” a “carré,” a “douzaine,” or a “colonne.” Heedless of all around him, heedless of his old partner at his side, the man who had once shared his losses and his winnings, heedless of the pale delicate girl who was wandering about alone somewhere outside, fearing lest he should lose the whole of the little money they now had, he won and won, and still won.
Sometimes he lost. Twice in succession the bank gained six hundred francs of his winnings; still nothing daunted, he continued, and found that the knowledge he had gained of the game proved true, for he won again and again, although sometimes doubling and even trebling his stake.