The crowd of eager ones around the table now began to wait until he selected the place whereon he should put down his stake, and commenced to follow his play narrowly, playing when he played, and refraining when he held back.
Zertho noticed this and whispered: “Your luck’s changed, old chap. Why not try bigger stakes?”
“I know what I’m about,” the other snapped viciously, pulling towards him a dozen notes from the “passe” opposite. “If you won’t play yourself keep count for me, and see that I get fully paid.”
Zertho well knew that his old partner had now become oblivious to everything. His mouth was hard-set, his eyes gleamed with a fierce excitement he strove to suppress, and great beads of perspiration stood upon his heavily-lined brow. A lady standing behind him, a tourist evidently, reached over his head to stake her modest five-franc piece on the red, whereupon he turned, and muttering something uncomplimentary regarding “those women who ought to play for sous,” withered her with a look.
Somebody had handed Zertho one of the cards printed with parallel columns under the letters “N” and “R,” with a pencil wherewith to keep count. He glanced up, and noticing all eyes directed upon them, suddenly reflected that if any person came up who knew him as Prince Zertho d’Auzac it would scarcely be dignified to be discovered counting the gains and acting as clerk to a professional gamester.
But Brooker wanted money badly, and was winning; therefore he could not disturb him. Both men were gamblers at heart, and the one feared to move just as much as the other, lest the spell should be broken and the luck change.
The good fortune attending the Captain’s play seemed to the onlookers little short of marvellous. With apparent unconcern he flung down his notes, sometimes six or ten twisted carelessly together, and each time there came back towards him upon the point of the croupier’s rake his own notes with a similar number of others.
Suddenly, having thrown four notes upon the “manque,” he rested his hot whirling brow upon his hand. The ball clicked into its little numbered partition, the croupier announced that the number 20 had gained, and he knew he had lost. The excited crowd sitting and standing around the table exchanged smiles and glances, and at that moment the croupiers changed.
Again the game was made, and the man upon whom everyone’s eyes were turned threw five hundred francs upon the simple chance of the red. Black again won.
Once more he threw a similar sum upon the red. A third time black won. He had lost fourteen hundred francs in three spins of the wheel!