of her welfare. Shespoke with the very faintest accent with her "r's," and I had, on thefirst evening we had met at the colonel's, wondered whether she were ofScotch, or perhaps foreign, extraction. The general conversation in theinterval of the Irritating Woman's orchestra turned upon foreign travel,and incidentally, in answer to an ingenious question I put to her, shetold me that her father had been German, but that she had nearly all herlife lived in England.
The Irritating Woman spoke of going to the Riviera in December,whereupon Mabel remarked--
"I hope mother will go too. I'm trying to persuade her. London is sodull and miserable in winter compared with Cannes or Nice."
"You know the Riviera well, I suppose?" I inquired of her.
"Oh, very well," she responded. "Mother and I have spent four wintersin the south. There's no place in Europe in winter like the Coted'Azur--as the French call it."
"I much prefer the Italian Riviera," chimed Miss Wells's high-pitchedvoice. She made it a point of honour to differ with everybody. "AtBordighera, Ospedaletti, San Remo, and Alassio you have much better air,the same warmth, and at about half the price. The hotels in Nice andCannes are simply ruinous." Then, turning to Mrs Anson, she added,"You know, dear, what you said last year."
"We go to the Grand, at Nice, always," answered Mrs Anson. "It isdear, certainly, but not exaggeratedly so in comparison with the otherlarge hotels."
"There seems of late to have been a gradual rise in prices all along theRiviera," remarked Hickman. "I've experienced it personally. Ten ortwelve years ago lived in Nice for the season for about half what itcosts me now."
"That exactly bears out my argument," exclaimed the Irritating Woman, intriumph. "The fact is that the French Riviera has become far too dear,and English people are, fortunately for themselves, beginning to seethat by continuing their journey an extra twenty miles beyond Nice theycan obtain just as good accommodation, live better, breathe purer air,and not be eternally worried by those gaudy tinsel-shows calledCarnivals, or insane attempts at hilarity miscalled Battles of Flowers."
"Oh, come, Miss Wells," protested Mabel, "surely you won't condemn theBattles of Flowers at Nice! Why, they're acknowledged to be amongst themost picturesque spectacles in the world!"
"I consider, my dear, that they are mere rubbishy ruses on the part ofthe Nicois to cause people to buy their flowers and throw them into theroadway. It's only a trick to improve their trade."
We all laughed.
"And the Carnival?" inquired Hickman, much amused.
"Carnival!" she snorted. "A disgraceful exhibition of a town'slawlessness. A miserable pageant got up merely to attract theunsuspecting foreigner into the web spread for him by extortionatehotel-keepers. All the so-called fun is performed by paid mountebanks;the cars are not only inartistic, but there is always somethingextremely offensive in their character, while the orgies which takeplace at the masked balls at the Casino are absolutely disgraceful. Thewhole thing is artificial, and deserves no support at all from wintervisitors."
Mrs Anson, for once, did not agree with this sweeping condemnation,while Mabel declared that she always enjoyed the fun of the battles offlowers and paper confetti, although she admitted that she had never hadthe courage to go out on those days when the pellets of lime, or "harpconfetti," are permitted. Both Hickman and myself supported Mabel indefence of the annual fetes at Nice as being unique in all the world.
But the Irritating Woman was not to be convinced that her opinions wereeither ill-formed or in the least distorted. She had never been presentat a Carnival ball, she admitted, but it had been described to her bytwo estimable ladies who had, and that was, for her, sufficient. Theywere a pair of pious souls, and would, of course, never exaggerate tothe length of a lie.
Dinner over, the ladies retired, and Hickman and myself were left tosmoke and gossip. He was certainly a very ugly man, and at timesasserted an overbearing superiority in conversation; but having watchedhim very closely, I at length arrived at the conclusion that this washis natural manner, and was not intended to be offensive. Indeed, eversince that first moment when I had entered and been introduced, he hadshown himself to be very pleasant and affable towards me.
"Poor Miss Wells!" he laughed, after the door had closed. "She's soinfernally positive about everything. It would be as good as anentertainment to induce her to expound her views upon religiousmatters."
"Any argument seems utterly useless," I remarked.
"Do you know Nice well?" he inquired, after reflecting a moment.
"I've spent three winters there," I answered.
"And at Monte Carlo, I suppose?"
"Yes, of course," I responded, laughing. "I suppose scarcely any mangoes to Nice without going over to Monty and risking a few louis."
"Were you lucky?"
"So, so. One season I won five thousand francs. In fact, I've neverlost on the whole season. I've always left the Riviera with some of thebank's money."
"Then you can heartily congratulate yourself," he said, "I'm thereverse. I generally lose. Do you believe in any system at roulette?"
"No; they are all frauds," I answered promptly. "Except one," heinterposed. "There's one based on the law of averages, which must turnup in your favour if you're only patient enough. The reason why it isso difficult is because it's such a long and tedious affair."
"Explain it," I urged, for a new system that was infallible was, to me,of greatest interest. I had, in the days before my blindness, made astudy of the chances at roulette, and had played carefully uponprinciples which had, to me, appeared most natural. The result had beenthat with care I had won--not much, it was true--but it was better thanleaving one's money to swell the company's dividends.
"The system," he said, tossing off his glass of curacoa at one gulp, "isnot at all a complicated one. If you study the permanences of anytable--you can get them from the _Gazette Rose_--you'll find that eachday the largest number of times either colour comes up in succession isnine. Now, all you have to do is to go to a table at the opening of theplay, and taking one colour, red or black it makes no difference, stakeupon it, and allow your money to accumulate until it is swept away. Ifthe colour you stake upon comes up eight times in succession, and youhave originally staked twenty francs, your gains lying on the table willamount to two thousand five hundred and sixty francs. Even then, don'ttouch it. The colour must, in the law of averages, come up nine timesin succession each day, taking the week through. If it comes up, you'llwin five thousand and twenty francs for the louis you staked, and thenat once leave the table, for it will not come up nine times again thatday. Of course, this may occur almost at the opening of the play, ornot until the table is near closing, therefore it requires greatpatience and constant attendance. To-day it may not come up nine times,but it will probably come up nine times on two occasions to-morrow, andso the average always rights itself."
His theory was certainly a novel one, and impressed me. There might, Ithought, be something in it. He had never had patience to try it, headmitted, but he had gone through a whole year's "permanences," andfound that only on three or four occasions had it failed.
For half an hour or so he sat lucidly explaining the results of hisstudies of the game with the air of a practised gambler. In these Ibecame at once interested--as every man is who believes he has found thesecret of how to get the right side of the bank; but we were at lengthcompelled to put down our cigars, and he led the way into thedrawing-room, where the ladies awaited us.
The room was a large, handsome one, elegantly furnished, and lit by twogreat lamps, which shed a soft, subdued light from beneath their hugeshades of silk and lace. Mabel was sitting at the open grand piano, theshaded candlelight causing the beautiful diamond star in the coils ofher dark-brown hair to flash with a dazzling iridescence, and as Ientered she turned and gave me a sweet smile of welcome.
A second time I glanced around that spacious apartment, then nextinstant stood breathless--transfixed.
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br /> I could not believe my own eyes. It seemed absolutely incredible. Yetthe truth was beyond all doubt.
In the disposition of the furniture, and in the general appointments ofthat handsome salon, the home of the woman I so dearly loved, Irecognised the very room which I had once explored with my keen sense oftouch--the room in which had been committed that ghastly, mysterious,midnight crime!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
WHAT I SAW.
"How you men gossip!" Mabel exclaimed, tingling upon the piano-stool,and laughing merrily.
"I wasn't aware that we had been very long,"
The Wiles of the Wicked Page 20
