In an instant gold and notes were showered upon them from every hand until they formed a formidable pile. The other players crowding around, seeing his returning run of luck, once more followed his game.
A third time was the ball projected around the edge of the disc, followed eagerly in its course by two hundred eyes; a third time the croupier’s voice was raised in warning that no more money was to be placed upon the table, and a third time the ivory dropped with a sudden click upon the red.
A third time came the six thousand francs handed upon the end of the croupier’s rake.
Brooker, taking the bundle of small notes and thrusting them all together in his pocket, rose at once from the table with a smile at those opposite him, the richer by a thousand pounds.
“Marvellous!” cried Zertho, as they moved away together across the polished floor. “What a run you’ve had! Surely Liane can’t be angry now. Let’s go into the gardens; she’s certain to be awaiting us there.”
And together they went to the cloakroom for their hats; then passed out down the broad carpeted steps into the pretty place, where the shadows were lengthening. The Monégasques and visitors were promenading in the gardens; the orchestra before the crowded Café de Paris, with its striped sun-blinds, was playing an overture of Mascagni’s; and the cool, bright, flower-scented air was refreshing after the heat and excitement of the crowded rooms.
“At last!” Brooker exclaimed, as they descended the steps to seek Liane. “At last my luck has changed!”