GAMBLER WHO CAN'T LOSE

Evening Star, Issue 20311, 21 October 1929, Page 2

GAMBLER WHO CAN'T LOSE

BISCUITS WORTH £BOO EACH Tlie casino at Deauville is a vast onestory cream-coloured square with ceilings fifty feet high, the floors carpeted luxuriously, the whole decor being of the Louis XVI. period. As \vc enter the swing doors we are challenged for our carte d’eutree, give ten francs to the two mins, and walk up a few steps into a huge square dancing room prelates Charles Graves, in the ‘ Da : ly slail ’). Straight in front is another long" corridor leading to the gambling looms and to the restaurant —about half the sixo of the Palais do Danse at Hammersmith, and with a stage and a tall vaulted ceiling. We produce our passports, however, pay 250 francs, sign a lot of forms .vinle the officials look to see if we are on the famous black list that all casinos have of previously defaulting players, and enter the rooms. Almost at once there are familiar faces. Lady Evelyn Beauchamp is gaily punting against a pleasant, dark, chinless Frenchman. Beside her is her husband and Lary Carnavon. A few feet away is Lord Stanley, tho son and heir of Lord Derby, whose horse lost at. the races that afternoon. Tho Frenchman wins three times more. Lord Uarnavon comes up and successfully takes his measure. All round us are spectacled Americans, lithe dark-skinned Argentines, pretty ladies from Paris, their arms glittering with bracelets of diamonds and platinum, and middle-aged Frenchmen, with or without beards.

Now, if yon have got £4 5s in your pocket wo will go into the private room where the Greek syndicate holds the fort. Hero the. heavy brocade curtains are drawn and the chandeliers .send down the unreal electric light. There are sixty people clustered round tho oval table. Twenty of them are gambling on cither side of M. Zograpbos, the small, dark Greek with the sunburnt skin, haunted eyes, high forehead, and imperceptible fatigue. He has just won on both sides of the table live times consecutively. As we stand there be does it four times more. In front, of him are a pyramid of white oval “ biscuits worth £BOO each, three feet of oblong red and blue £BO “ biscuits ” neatly parked on the green baize table, and a flood of transparent discs worth £8 each. In all there is £BO,OOO in front of him. Sixty-eight thousand pounds of it represent bis winnings of the afternoon. Here he sits afternoon after _ afternoon, and night, after night, whim the rich men of France, the United States, South America, Italy, and even Turkey and Egypt bring their cheque books and their cash and try to break his luck. As we stand and watch he wins anothei £20,000, lights a cigarette, waits a moment, and then, the cards being exhausted, makes a movement as if to close the session. But he is urged to continue He does so, a trifle wearily, and wins heavily again. • . There is not an Englishman playing against him, though Lord_ Stanley <as followed ns and is watching at a discreet distance. M. Zographos never smiles and seldom talks. His sole mannerism is to put, his hand on his hip while the croupier rakes in the money He never drinks alcohol. _ He treats the game as a business, which, indeed, it is for him. . The mathematical odds in favour are only guineas to pounds. But tic psychological odds are tremendous, the punter who is winning docs not plunge when he should. He plunges when he is losing and the luck is running against him. . . ~ , The Comte de Bearn joins ns. ’ J will introduce you, if you _ like, atm on,” he says. “ Zographos is more expensive at night.” lie meant “ expan sive.” But expensive is even better.