His eyes were brilliant under their absurd long lashes, and the smile he gave her was the confident smile of a conqueror. Ann caught the infection and began to play, staking where he staked, as he had suggested. Now and then she ventured a little flutter of her own and tried some other number, but usually her modest franc lay side by side with Tony"s lordly five-franc note.
Evidently Tony"s bones had the right prophetic instinct, for after every _coup_ the croupier pushed across to him a small pile of notes and silver.
Ann"s own eyes were sparkling now. It was not that she really cared much about her actual winnings. She was staking too lightly for that to matter.
But it entertained her enormously to win--to beat the bank as embodied in the person of the croupier, who reminded her of nothing so much as of an extremely active spider waiting in a corner of his web to pounce on an adventurous fly. Each time the ball dropped into the number she had backed, a little thrill of sheer, gleeful enjoyment ran through her.
Now and again, in spite of her absorption in her own and Tony"s play, she was conscious of a muscular brown hand on her right that reached out to place a fresh stake on the table--never to gather up any winnings. Its owner must be losing heavily. He was betting, not only on single numbers, but putting the maximum on certain combinations and groups of numbers. And every time the long-handled rake whisked his stakes away from him.
Ann glanced sideways to see who was the unlucky player, and once more she met the same ironical grey eyes which she had last encountered over the top of a newspaper. The man who was losing so persistently was her Englishman.
He did not seek to hold her gaze, but bent his own immediately upon the table again. She stole another glance at him. He was very brown, but she could see now that he was naturally fair-skinned, although tanned by the sun. A small scar, high up on the left cheek-bone, showed like a white line against the tan. Probably he had lived abroad in a hot climate, she reflected; that deep bronze was never the achievement of an elusive northern sun. It emphasised the penetrating quality of his eyes, giving them a curious brilliance. Ann had been conscious of a little shock each time she had encountered them. She was inclined to set his actual age at thirty-six or seven, though his face might have been that of a man of forty. But there was a suggestion of something still boyish about it, notwithstanding the rather stern-set features and bitter-looking mouth. She felt as though the bitterness revealed in his expression did not rightly belong to the man"s nature. It was in essence alien--something that life had added to him.
_"Faites vos jeux, messieurs; messieurs, faites vos jeux."_
The croupier"s droning voice recalled her sharply from her thoughts.
"Which is it to be this time, Tony?" she asked, smiling.
"Seven and _impair_," he replied tersely. And in due course the seven turned up.
Their run of luck was continuing without a break, and plenty of amused and interested glances were cast at the young couple of successful players.
They were taking it all so easily, with a careless, light-hearted enjoyment that was rather refreshing to turn to after a glimpse of some of the furtive, vulture-like faces gathered round the tables. Meanwhile, the grey-eyed Englishman continued to lose with the same persistency as his young compatriots were winning. Apparently he was playing on a system, for, in spite of his want of success, he continued steadily backing certain definite combinations. He showed neither impatience or annoyance when he lost. His face remained perfectly impa.s.sive, and Ann had a feeling that he would play precisely as steadily, remain as grimly unmoved, if the stakes were a hundred times as high as those permitted at the Kursaal. She could imagine him staking his whole fortune, losing it, and then walking out of the rooms as coolly composed as he had entered them.
Once more the ball slithered into the number she had backed, and she opened a small silken bag, that already bulged with her evening"s gains, and added the winnings of the last coup. At the same moment, some one pressing from behind jolted her arm, and the bag fell with a little thud, its contents spilling out on the floor. Tony, engrossed in the play, failed to notice the mishap and went on staking, but the Englishman, apparently quite unconcerned as to the chances he might be missing, stooped at once and collected the bag and its scattered contents.
"I think I"ve rescued everything," he said, as he handed it to her. "But you"d better count it over and make certain."
"Oh, no, I won"t count it. It"s sure to be all right. Thank you so much."
Ann spoke rather breathlessly. For some reason or other she felt unaccountably nervous.
The man smiled.
"You"ve become such a Croesus to-night that I suppose an odd franc or two doesn"t matter?" he suggested.
"I _have_ been lucky, haven"t I?" she acknowledged frankly. "It"s been such fun." Then, with friendly sympathy: "I"m afraid you"ve lost, though?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I"m used to losing," he replied indifferently.
Somehow, Ann felt as though he were not thinking only of his losses at the tables. That note of bitterness in his voice sprang from some deeper undercurrent.
"I"m so sorry," she said simply.
"I never expect to win," he returned curtly. "If you expect nothing, you"re never disappointed. Pray don"t waste your sympathy."
The rudeness of the speech took her aback. Yet, sensing in its very churlishness the sting of some old hurt, she answered him quietly, though with heightened colour:
"If you expect nothing, you"ll get nothing. That"s one of the rules of the road."
He checked himself in the act of turning away, and regarded her with a mixture of contempt and amus.e.m.e.nt, much as one might smile at the utterances of a child.
"Don"t you think we get mostly what we"re looking for?" she went on courageously. "If you expect good things, they"ll come to you, and if you"re expecting bad things, they"ll come, too."
He gave a short laugh.
"The doctrine of faith! I"m afraid I"ve outgrown it--many years ago."
"_Faites vos jeux, messieurs_," intoned the croupier.
The Englishman tossed a coin on to number nine. Ann followed the circlings of the ball with a curious tense anxiety. She wished desperately that the nine would turn up.
_"Numero un!"_
With a feeling akin to revolt she watched those who had staked on number one grab up their winnings, while the croupier raked in the Englishman"s solitary bid for fortune.
"You see?" The bitter grey eyes mocked her. "Quite symbolical, wasn"t it?"
With a slight bow he moved away from the table and pa.s.sed quickly out of the room.
Ann felt disinclined to play any further. She watched Tony win, then lose once, then win again several times in succession. He was flushed and there was a look of triumph on his face.
"Haven"t you finished yet, Tony?" she asked at last "I"m ready to go home when you are."
"Go home? When I"m winning?" he expostulated. "Rather not!" Then, catching sight of her face, "h.e.l.lo! You look tired. Are you, Ann?"
She nodded.
"Yes, I think I am a little."
Tony held a five-franc note in his hand, ready for staking. Without the least sign of disappointment he stuffed it back into his pocket.
"Then we"ll go home," he said. And somewhat to the amazement of the people nearest him, who had been watching his phenomenal run of luck, he made a way for Ann through the crowd and followed her out of the room.
"That was nice of you, Tony," she said gratefully, as they started to walk home through the deserted streets.
He threw her a quick, enigmatic smile.
"I"ve an obliging disposition. Haven"t you found that out yet?"
Ann laughed.
"It"s becoming quite noticeable," she retorted. "Tony, you nearly broke the bank to-night, I should think."
"Broke the bank! At five francs a time!" He kicked a pebble viciously into the roadway. "It was confounded bad luck to get a run like that with such a rotten limit. With an equal run at Monte I"d have made a fortune. Oh, d.a.m.n!"
They walked on in silence for a while. There was no moon. The lake lay dark and mysterious, p.r.i.c.ked here and there with the swaying orange light of a fishing-boat. High up, like a ring of planets brooding above the town, the great arc of the Caux Palace lights blazed through the starlit dusk.
Tony reverted to the evening"s play.