Dr. Thorndyke Omnibus Vol 7

by R. Austin Freeman

  Gillum was inclined to be evasive. "I don't quite know what the programme is," he replied. "It depends on what my guest would like to do."

  "Bring him along with you," said she, "and let him see the ball roll. I'm sure he'd enjoy it, wouldn't you?"

  As she asked the question, she turned to me with the peculiar cat-like grin that one sees in newspaper portraits of young women, with a distinct tendency to the "glad eye"; and I noticed that it seemed a rather tired eye and slightly puffy about the lower lids.

  "I am not really an enthusiast in regard to billiards," I replied, "and I am no player. But it is interesting enough to look on at a good game."

  Apparently I had said something funny, for the lady greeted my answer with a gay—and rather strident—laugh, and the two men, who had been looking on in silence, broke into sour grins. But Gillum, also smiling, evidently wished to get rid of his acquaintances for he interposed with the air of closing the conversation.

  "Well, we shall see what we feel like when we have dined. I won't make any engagement now."

  The lady took the hint graciously enough. "Very well, Jack," said she. "We will leave you in peace and hope to see you later;" and with this and another smile which embraced us both, she moved off with her two companions, neither of whom seemed to take any notice of Gillum.

  "What was the joke? "I asked when they had gone. "And what club was she referring to?"

  "It isn't really a club," replied Gillum. "It is what, I suppose, you would call a gambling hall; a place where you can stake your money at trente et quarante, rouge et noir, chemin de fer, or any of the regular gambling games. The joke was that the ball she meant was not a billiard ball but the little ball that rolls round the roulette wheel. It is not a particularly amusing joke."

  "No," I agreed. "And are these people connected with the club?"

  "Very much so," he replied. "That tall chappie—the one with the squint—runs the place, and I should think he does fairly well out of it. He is a Frenchman of the name of Foucault."

  "He doesn't look a particularly amiable person," I remarked, recalling the rather sulky way in which he had looked on at the interview.

  Gillum laughed. "He is a silly ass," said he, "as jealous as the devil; and as Madame's manners are, as you saw, of the distinctly coquettish, slap and tickle order, there is pretty constant trouble. But he needn't worry. There is no harm in the fair Marie. Her engaging wiles are all in the way of business."

  "Do you spend much time at the club?" I asked.

  "I drop in there pretty frequently," he replied.

  "And I suppose you drop a fair amount of money."

  "I suppose I do. But not so much as you would think. You orthodox financiers seem to imagine that a gambler always loses, but that is quite a mistake. The luck isn't always on the one side. Sometimes I pick up a little windfall that pays my expenses for quite a long time."

  "Still," said I, "the balance must be against you in the long run."

  "I have already admitted," he replied, "that I lose on my gambling transactions as a whole, and probably I lose, in the long run, at the club, though it isn't so easy to keep accounts of what I do there. But supposing that the balance is against me. What about it? Foucault runs the club to make a profit. But he can only make a profit if the players make a loss. What they lose to the bank is, in effect, their payment to him for the entertainment that he supplies. Hang it all, Mortimer, you can't expect to get your fun for nothing."

  "Some people do," said I, "the people, I mean, who have infallible systems. I gather that you don't use a system."

  "Well," he replied cautiously, "I haven't managed yet to devise a system that really works, but I have given some thought to the matter. There ought to be some way of ascertaining how the laws of chance operate, and if one could discover that, one would have the means of circumventing them."

  "You haven't tried the plan of doubling the stakes when you lose?"

  "Yes, I have; and I must admit that, for sheer excitement there is nothing like it. Your real, rabid gambler loves it—and usually cleans himself out. But for a sane and sober gambler it is not practicable. There are too many snags. To begin with, at the best you only get your money back plus the amount of the lowest stake. Consequently, the first stake must be a fairly large one or there is nothing in it. But if you start with a substantial stake and the luck is against you, you are up in enormous figures before you know where you are. For instance, supposing you are playing roulette and you lay a hundred pounds on manque or impair or any of the even chances. If you lose four times in succession, which would not be extraordinary, you have dropped fifteen hundred pounds; and the danger is that you may empty your pocket before the winning coup comes round. Then you have lost the lot. But there is another snag. The bank won't let you go on doubling as long as you like. There is a limit set to each kind of bet, and when you reach that limit you are not allowed to double any more. If you go on playing you have got to go back to a flat stake, in which case it is impossible for you to win back what you have lost. So, regarded as a serious method of play, the doubling racket is no go."

  "It seems astonishing," said I, "that anyone should practise it. But perhaps they don't."

  "Oh, don't they?" said Gillum. "You must understand, Mortimer, that to the real, perfect gambler, the charm of the game is the risk of losing. The bigger the risk, the greater the thrill. Plenty of people at the club, particularly the roulette players, double the stakes when they lose; and there is a temptation, you know, when you have lost, to take another chance in the hope of getting your money back. But it is a bad plan, because you stand to lose so much more than you stand to gain."

  "Don't some people double on their winnings?" I asked.

  "Ah," said he, "but that is quite a different kind of affair. There is some sense in that because it is quite the opposite of the other method. If you win you win, you don't merely get your money back; and if you eventually lose, you have only lost your original stake—plus your winnings, of course. Supposing you take an even chance at roulette, say you put a hundred pounds on red and you win; and suppose that you leave the stake and the winnings—two hundred pounds—on the table as a fresh stake. If the red turns up again you take up four hundred, of which one hundred is your original stake. You have won three hundred. But if you lose, you have only lost a hundred, plus the three that you had won. From a gambler's point of view it is quite a sound method."

  "Yes," I agreed, "I see that, at least, you start with the knowledge of the amount that you stand to lose. But the whole thing is beyond my comprehension. I can't begin to understand the state of mind of a man who is prepared to risk his money in a transaction over which he has no control and in respect to which no judgement, calculation or prevision is possible."

  He laughed gaily and refilled our glasses. "You are a banker to the finger-tips, Mortimer," said he; "and, as you happen to be my banker, I am not disposed to quarrel with your eminently correct outlook. I suppose you have never seen a gambling den.''

  "Never," I replied; "and I am an absolute ignorant on the subject of gambling. I hardly know how to play the common card games."

  "I think you ought to know what these shows are like," said he. "I can assure you that, as a mere spectacle, a regular gaming house is worth seeing. What do you say to strolling round to the club with me when we have had our coffee? It's too late to do anything else."

  It was really too late to do anything but go home and to bed. But I could hardly, in the circumstances, suggest that course. Nor, in fact, was I particularly disposed to; for the excellent dinner and the equally excellent wine had produced a state of exhilaration that made me not disinclined for adventure. In my normal state, nothing would have induced me to set foot in a gambling den. Now I fell in readily enough with Gillum's suggestion.

  "But shan't I be expected to play?" I enquired. "Because I am not going to."

  "That will be all right," he replied. "I shall explain to Madame, and she will see that you a
re left in peace. But you understand that this is an unregistered club and that you will keep your own counsel about your visit there. I shall have to guarantee your secrecy."

  I gave the necessary undertaking and Gillum then held the wine bottle up to the light.

  "There's half a bottle left," said he, making as if to refill my glass. "Won't you really? Not another half-glass? Well, I don't think I will, either. We will just have our coffee and a cognac and then toddle round to the club and see the ball roll."

  III. THE GAMING HOUSE

  From Giamborini's we strolled forth into Wardour Street, and, proceeding in a southerly direction, promptly turned into Gerrard Street. I knew the place slightly and on my occasional passage through it had found a certain bookish interest in contrasting its recent faded and shabby aspect with that which it must have presented in the days when Dryden was a resident, and, later, when the Literary Club with Johnson, Reynolds, Goldsmith and Gibbon, held its meetings here.

  "Queer old street," Gillum commented, looking about him disparagingly. "Quite fashionable, I believe, at one time, but it is down on its luck nowadays. Very mixed population, too. All sorts of odd clubs, British and foreign, and tradesmen who seem to have survived from the Stone Age. There is a fellow some where along here who makes spurs. Think of it. Spurs! In the twentieth century. This is our show."

  He halted at a doorway which, shabby and grimy as it was, yet preserved some vestiges of its former dignity, and having run his eye over an assortment of bell handles, put his finger on an electric button which surmounted them and pressed several times at irregular intervals.

  "Are you ringing out a code message?" I asked.

  "Well, yes, in a way," he replied. "There is a particular kind of ring that the regular members give just to let the people upstairs know that it isn't a stranger. There is always the possibility of a raid and our friends like to have time to make the necessary arrangements."

  The idea of a police raid was not a pleasant one and the suggestion tended rather to damp my enthusiasm. I expressed the hope that this would not happen to be the occasion of one.

  "No, indeed," said Gillum. "it would be unfortunate for you. Wouldn't increase your prestige at the bank. But you needn't worry. There has never been any trouble since I have known the place. I have sometimes suspected that Foucault has some sort of discreet understanding with the authorities, but in any case, I know there is a bolt hole through into the next house where an Italian club has its premises."

  This did not sound very reassuring. I felt the exhilarating effects of the champagne evaporating rapidly; and when at length the door was opened, the aspect of the janitor did not produce a favourable impression. He was a big, powerful man, with a heavy jaw and beetling brows and a strong suggestion of the professional pugilist. He carried an electric lamp, the light of which he cast on us while he inspected us critically. Then the truculent expression faded suddenly from his face and a cheerful Irish voice exclaimed:

  "Whoy, it's Mr. Gillum. Good evening, sorr. And the other gentleman, would he be a friend of yours?"

  "Yes," replied Gillum, "it's all right, Cassidy. All's well and the lights are burning brightly, sir."

  Mr. Cassidy chuckled as he let us in and shut the door. "Many's the time," said he, "as I've spoken them same wurrds in the days when I used the sea. What did ye say the gentleman's name was?"

  "His name is Mortimer," replied Gillum.

  "To be sure it is," said Cassidy, adding, as he threw his light downwards: "Kape your oyes on the stairs, sorr. There's a tread loose at the turn."

  The stairs were, in fact, in somewhat indifferent repair, but I noticed as the light flickered over them that this had once been quite a handsome staircase though a trifle narrow; and even now the fine moulded handrail and the graceful twisted balusters redeemed its extreme shabbiness. At the top of the second flight we came to a bare landing with a door facing us. This Cassidy opened, and, having admitted us, passed in himself, crossed the room and disappeared through another doorway, presumably to report our arrival and identity.

  I looked round the room which we had entered and was conscious of a faint sense of anti-climax. It was so very ordinary and so very innocent; much like the interior of the cheaper kind of old-fashioned Soho restaurant. At the farther end of the room was a large sideboard, presided over by a man in a white coat and cap and piled with a variety of food, including a ham, a number of different types of sausage, a great stack of sandwiches and long French loaves. On a shelf behind was a long row of bottles of mineral waters but on the sideboard I noted several champagne bottles, a few of whisky, and some of absinthe and other liqueurs.

  The room was moderately full of people; full enough to have given Mr. Cassidy considerable occupation if they had been admitted separately. Some of them were lounging about, talking; others were seated at little tables, taking food rather hurriedly, and some were actually drinking ginger ale, though most of them were provided with wine, whisky or Dutch gin. One or two of the tables were furnished with chess-boards and sets of dominoes, but none of them appeared to be in use. Apparently their function was purely psychological. They were part of the "make-up" of the establishment.

  I had not much time to examine the company, but a rapid inspection conveyed to me the impression that they were all rather abnormal and slightly disreputable. There was an air of eagerness, anxiety and excitement about them, mingled, in some cases, with a sort of wild hilarity. Those at the tables gobbled their food as if they were hastily stoking up and were anxious to get the business over. Particularly I noticed a group of four men standing by the sideboard devouring sandwiches wolfishly and gulping champagne from tumblers. But, as I said, I had little time to observe them, for, after a brief pause and a curious glance round the room, Gillum conducted me to a door near the farther end from which Cassidy emerged as we approached.

  There was certainly nothing innocent about the room that we now entered. A single glance convicted it. The roulette table alone furnished evidence to which there could be no answer, and the groups of haggard, intent men and women gathered round the card tables that filled most of the room, if less conclusive to a possible raider, were unmistakable, seen as I saw them.

  From one of these tables the lady of the restaurant rose, and laying down her cards, came to meet us.

  "So you have persuaded Mr. Mortimer to come," she said, bestowing a gracious smile on me and offering an extensive sample of teeth for my inspection (apparently she had got my name from Mr. Cassidy).

  "Yes," replied Gillum, "but he has only come as a spectator. I have just brought him round to show him the ropes in case he may feel disposed for an evening's sport later on."

  "That is very good of you, Jack," said she. "Of course, he can please himself as to whether he plays or not. Perhaps, when he has looked on for a while, he may feel inclined to try his luck. People who come to look on very often do."

  "I have no doubt they do," said Gillum with a sly mile. "The complaint is catching and fools who come to scoff remain to play."

  "I hope Mr. Mortimer hasn't come to scoff," said she; and when I had protested with more emphasis than sincerity she asked: "Where is your pupil going to take his first lesson?"

  "Well," he replied, "as he knows practically nothing about card games, I think roulette will suit him best. Besides, it is the beginner's game and it is the most typical game of chance."

  That's true," Madame agreed, "though it seems to me a dull game, if you can call it a game at all. Let me find a couple of chairs so that you and your pupil can sit together; and then, when Mr. Mortimer is comfortably settled, I want to have a few words with you."

  We secured two chairs and placed them in a vacant place at the end of the table by the compartment distinguished by a red lozenge on the green cloth. Then Madame introduced me to the croupier, whom she addressed as Hyman—his surname I found later to be Goldfarb—and when Gillum had placed his hat on his chair, she linked her arm with his and led him away among the
multitude of card tables.

  Left to myself, I first disposed of my hat and stick under my chair, as I noticed that several other men had done, though there was a large hat rack in the adjoining room. Then I proceeded to make my observations.

  There was plenty to observe, and it was all strange and novel to me. There were, for instance, the various players, most of them seated at the table, though some preferred to stand and hover about behind the chairs, and there was the croupier, a pleasant faced Jew, calm, impassive and courteous, though obviously very much "on the spot"; and there were the parties of players at the card tables, most of whom I could see from my position without appearing to spy on them.

  I considered them one by one. My next neighbour was an elderly woman whom I judged to be French, who sat like a graven image, silently and immovably intent on her game. She seemed to have the disease in a chronic form, for she played mechanically without a sign of satisfaction when she won or annoyance when she lost. At each spin of the wheel she laid a ten-shilling note on the space before which she sat—that marked with the red lozenge. If she won, she put the note that she had gained into a little hand bag and held the other in readiness for the next turn of the wheel; if she lost, she fished a note out of the bag for the next coup. So she went on as long as I observed her; always the same stake on the same spot. It looked deadly dull, and it was not gambling at all in any proper sense; for, by the ordinary laws of chance, it was almost impossible for her either to win or lose to an appreciable extent. So fatuous her proceedings seemed that I almost felt more respect for her next-door neighbour, a small German who might, from his appearance, have been a waiter. He certainly took risks, for his formula was two numbers "a cheval," and he kept to the same two numbers. As the odds against him were seventeen to one, he naturally lost with great regularity; and when he lost cursed under his breath—not very far under—shook his head and grimaced angrily. I think he must have been pretty near the end of his resources, for I saw him take out a wallet and look into it anxiously. But at this moment his magic number was announced, whereat he gave a yell of ecstasy, grabbed up his winnings, stuffed them into his wallet excepting one pound note, which he laid on the same spot as before and lost within a minute.