Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

304 small five-dollar bets on the “red.” His fellow-player was plunging heavily—and losing. Also, the man was slightly under the influence of liquor. The croupier’s voice droned through half a dozen plays. John Bruce continued to make five-dollar bets. The little by-play interested him. He knew the signs. His fellow-player descended to the sup- per room for another drink, it being against the rules of the house to serve anything in the gambling rooms. The croupier laughed as he glanced at the retreating figure and then at another five dollar bet that John Bruce pushed upon the “ red.” ‘He'll rob you of your reputation, Mr. Bruce, if you don’t look out!” the croupier smiled quizzically. ‘Are you finding a thrill in playing the minimum for a change?” ““ Just feeling my way.” John Bruce re- turned the smile. “It’s a bit early yet, isn’t it?” The other player returned. He con- tinued to bet heavily. He made another excursion below stairs. Other “ guests” drifted into the room, and the play became more general. John Bruce increased his stakes slightly, quite indifferent naturally as to whether he lost or won—since he could neither lose nor win. He was sitting beside the player he had originally joined at the table, and sud- denly his interest in the other became still more enlivened. The man, after a series of disastrous plays, was palpably broke, for he snatched off a large diamond ring from his finger and held it out to the croupier. “Give me—hic!—somethin’ on that,” - he hiccuped. “ Might as well make a clean-up, eh?” ) The croupier took the ring, examined it critically for an instant, and handed it back. “Ym sorry,” he said; “but you know the rules of the house. I couldn’t advance anything on it if it were worth a million. But the stone’s valuable, all right. You’d better take a trip to Persia.” The man replaced the ring with some difficulty upon his finger, and stared owl- ishly at the croupier. “Thell with your—hic!—-trip to Per- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. sia!’’ he said thickly. ‘ Don’t like Persia! Been—hic!-—there before! “ Guess Ill go home!” The man negotiated his way to the door; the game went on. John Bruce began to increase his stakes materially. A trip to Persia! What, exactly, did that mean? It both piqued his curiosity and stirred his suspicions. He smiled as he placed a heavy Stake upon the table. It would probably be a much more expensive trip to this fan- ciful Persia than to the Persia of reality, for it seemed that one must go broke first! Well, he would go broke—though it would require some little finesse for John Bruce, the millionaire plunger, to attain the envi- ous situation without exciting suspicion. He was very keenly interested in this per- sonally conducted tour, obviously inaugu- rated by that exquisite little man, M. Henri de Lavergne! John Bruce to his inward chagrin—won. He began to play now with a zest, eager- ness and excitement which, heretofore, the juggling of Mephistopheles’s money had deprived him of. Outwardly, however, the. calm impassiveness that, in the few eve- nings he had been in the house, had al- ready won him the reputation of being par excellence a cool and nervy plunger, re- mained unchanged. He continued to win for a while; and then suddenly he began to lose. This was much better! He lost steadily now. He staked with lavish hand, playing numerous long chances for the limit at every voyage of the clicking little ivory ball. Finally, the last of his visible assets were on the table, and he leaned forward to watch the fall of the ball. He was already fingering the magnificent jeweled watch-fob that dangled from the pocket of his evening clothes. ‘““ Zero!’”’? announced the croupier. The ‘‘ zero’”’ had been one of his selec- tions. The “ zero” paid 35 for r. A subdued ripple of excitement went up from around the table. The room was filling up. The still-early comers, mostly spectators for the time being, lured to the roulette table at the whisper that the mil- lionaire plunger was out to-night to break the bank, were whetting their own appe- comlicbtonks.c©