THE NOVELIST

Observer, Volume 1, Issue 22, 12 February 1881, Page 221

THE NOVELIST

HUNTED DOWN.

A NOVEL

By Adolphe Belot,

CHAPTER XIII. continued.

He left them and went to the table, where everybody made room for him, for he had taken care to pull out most opportunely a purse which seemed crammed full of bank notos. In reality, he had arranged this purse most artistically. Two or three bank notes, the fruits of Ms "savings, were wrapt ostentatiously round papers of minor importance, and thus formed bundles on which were very legibly written, 5, 10, 15 pounds. This spectacle produced on the male and female gamblers, especially the latter, such an effect that Cook profited by the sensation to risk only a few sovereigns. Hfe had long known by sight, or common report, a portion of the female element by which he was surrounded, and he had good reason to • distrust them. He played merely to avoid rousing any •suspicion, and to carry out, in all its details, his role as the rich foreigner. In addition to this, baccarat was as familiar to him as it was to his teacher. Two months prior to the tragedy he had been summoned to make a .descent on a secret gambling hoiise, and he had been obliged to make himself conversant, for the edification of the police authorities, with the nature of the games played there. It was, nevertheless, with a certain amount •of repugnance and great timidity that he hazarded a crown, saying to himself, "That is •enough to lose, and I can include it in my .account for expenses." But instead of losing his money, it so happened that he won another ; then two, then ten, and then twenty. Gold and notes seemed to rival each other in accumulating before him, At the same time strange ideas Avould present themselves to his imagination, and bring a smile to his face. "I wish the Commissioner," thought he, "could see me now, how heartily lie would laugh. A police, agent playing baccarat with people he is commissioned to watch, and, moreover, winning their money — it is a beautiful idea. The farce would be complete if the Superintendant of police of this district were to make a descent on the house and catch me in the act." Suddenly, just as he had won another large stake, for' the luck was following him as it generally does with those who sit down without either the wish or the object of winning, he felt some one lean on the back of his chair. He turned round — it was Brownpath. " You are profiting by my lessons," said the latter to him. "Oh! very little." " Very little ! Why, you have at least five or six hundred pounds in front of you-" "That is nothing," said Cooke, with the careless air of a millionaire. " Then, since you attach so little importance to your winnings, you will not be angry with ■-the person who sends me to you." " You have been sent to me. What does anybody want with me ?" ' ' You are requested to take your departure, and I am sent to tell you so." Cooke rose at once, and there was a general outery — "What, are you going? The eveningis scarcely begun. It is not more than three o'clock." •' Ah !" said the Spanish lady, " that is bad, when you are winning so largely." " He is afraid of losing," said Fanny..' "I had more confidence in you, my dear sir," said Kate. Cooke saw that his departure would be token amiss, and that he would commit an imprudence were lie to put his new friends too much out of humour. "Ladies," said lie, "I am compelled to escort home my companion whom 1 brought with me, and whom the excitement of the game has caused me to forget. But I shall be back in a moment, and I leave my money on the table to keep my place." This last speech settled matters satisfactorily, and Cooke rejoining Eleanor, left the room witli her.. " Well ?"■ he asked, as they went down stairs. " I have met him as you foresaw, but shall I see him again?" " Undoubtedly. If you were not to see him again the first intervieAv would be useless." " Where shall I meet him ? I do not wish to come here a second time and mix in society which is not to my taste." " You will not return here." " Then what have you resolved upon ?" " Nothing as yet ; but I will hit upon some 'scheme, trust me. May I ask if your convictions with regard to 'Brownpath have been •effaced by the interview you have had with him ?" " They have not been effaced, but nothinghas transpired to confirm them." And so saying, they reached the bottom of the staircase and gained the street. "I am obliged to go back again," said Ooke. " Nothing is easier. Call a cab for me and give my address to the driver." " Are you afraid to go alone at this advanced hour, madame ? I have enough time to see you home." "No, thanks! If I am to carry out the mission I have imposed on myself I must make myself familiar with all the difficulties of my position." An empty cab appeared. Cooke hailed it, and Eleanor got in. "I shall have the honour, madame," said Cooke, shutting the door, "to call upon you to-morrow, so that we can decide upon our future action." " I shall be at home all day," was the reply. Cook followed the carriage, which bore away Eleanor for an instant with his eyes. Any one who had seen him at that moment would have noticed something peculiar in his look. But he quickly passed his hand over his forehead, as if to chase away some thought which had taken possession of him. He drew his small figure up, his eye another expression, and he

wended his way without delay towards the house he had just left. " The first step is taken," he said to himself, ns he went upstairs, " but what about the second? If this very night I do not discover some method of getting hold of Brownpath, he will escape us. How to create, without awakening his suspicion, an excuse for seeing him again, seeing him often? Will it always so happen that the boldest spirits, whom neither danger nor obstacle, however serious, can daunt, have to meet with little difficulties, and be beaten by them ?" All at once he stopped and eried — " I have it ! Eureka ! as my proctor would say. Why should fortune abandon me now, after having just helped me ?" He rang Kate's bell, and was admitted. It was about 3 a.m. During Cooke's absence the game had taken a fresh lease of life. Brownpath held the cards, and fortune was decLaring for him. He had nearly three thousand pounds in the bank. Cooke sat down noiselessly and waited. After a short interval, the deal came round to him, and the cards were shuffled and cut. "Make yonr game, gentlemen," said Brownpath. "What do you stake?" some one asked Cooke. "I cry banquo," replied lie. "You mean that you cover all that is not covered by the rest ?" "Certainly," replied the players, withdrawing their stakes. "Which card do you back?" asked the banker. "Right or left, or would you rather stake on the line ?" "On the line be it. I don't know what you mean," lie added, Avith an air of innocence, "but that's all the more reason why I should win." Brownpath, in spite of his great experience

in gambling, was disconcerted. , Nothing intimidates a gambler so much as finding himself face to face with an opponent who, on the one hand, seems sure of his game, and, on the other, plays for the first time. Cooke was ignorant of none of these details, and he knew how to turn them to his own advcintage. Brownpath dealt the cards, looked at his own, and said — "I turn up the eight." "Then I ought to be nine," replied the policeagent, with imperturbable coolness. And so lie was, nine on both sides. Brownpath, annoyed at having lost at one fell swoop all his hard-earned gains, hoping for another run of good luck and bent on having his revenge on Cooke, whose assurance exasperated him, started a fresh bank with the solitary one hundred note which remained to him. ' The first rounds were lucky jin less than ten minutes he had quadrupled his capital at the expense of all the assembled players. Cooke was the only one who had not staked. He had got up from his chair, and was leaning against the mantel-piece, smoking a cigarette with an air of indifference. But after the banker had dealt two rounds, he went to the table again, and, as in the first instance, called banquo. "Again!" said Brownpath, dismayed. "You have a right to give up the bank," remarked somebody. "Not I," he exclaimed, *'I will not give it up." "As you please," said Cooke, throwing down his purse, in which real bank notes had replaced the sham rolls which he had invented. This deal was a repetition of the former one. The bank was broken for the second time, and the money amassed by Brownpath passed into Cook's hands. This time considerable applause greeted the feat. He was decidedly at a premium Amongst the women. Brownpath, who had come to the end of his tether, gave up the bank and Brownpath took it in his turn. But, instead

of starting it at a thousand pounds, he laid down hi teen hundred. With the aid of this stock-in-trade, he was about to back up his luck by a tower of strength— the strength of capital. In reality, it is not only the zeros of roulette or the drawn trente-et-quarante which do such good service to the gaming-tables of Germany, it is the large sum placed at the disposal of the bank. All the small purses eventually flow into the large one, byway of bearing out the proverb that the river always runs to the sea. There lives in London a very well-known individual, whose fortune, is said to amount to £70,000. He owes it, for the most part, to gambling, which to him, Avas a species of profession, a commercial speculation. In the exercise of this line of industry he was, relatively speaking, strictly honest, never having had recourse, throughout his long career, to prepared packs, or marked cards, or any of the infamous and petty rogueries so common amongst dishonest gamblers. He contented himself, instead of playing against the bank, with always taking it himself, and having in front of him large sums of money with which to hold his own against bad luck and wait for better times. His rooms, for a long time past, the rendezvous of the elite of society, had become a kind of oftshoot to the German establishments. Instead of leaving for Brighton, it was the custom, after dinner, to drive to the house inhabited by X, who gave you a charming reception, ottered you refreshments and cigars, delighted you with his lively wit, and your money ii»to the bargain. Cooke, in his capacity "as police-agent, -was acquainted with all London eccentricities. He had no doubt heard of X— and his modus operand^ and wished to imitate it. His fifteen hundred did wonders, for, in a very few minutes, all the money which was lying on the table had helped to swell his pile ; the large capital had absorbed the smaller ones. Then happened what always comes to pass in games of this

kind which are not regular, and where there are no rules. After having played for ready money, they played on honour — just what Cooke was waiting for with regard to .Brownpath. The latter, disheartened "by the first successes of his opponent, and- knowing, by dint of long experience, the dangers of the fresh lease the game had taken, was at iirst very cautious in his play. He might possibly have given up playing any longer against his ill luck if he had commenced by losing. — But chance made him a winner of his iirst five hundred staked on honour. He thought his good hick had come back to him, and that he was going to relieve Cooke of all that he had raked together. He played, but imprudently, with a sort of feverish excitement, and he began to lose once more. All the skill gained by ten years' practice availed him naught. This was simply because it was no longer with him, as in the preceding rounds, a question of merely winning or losing money; he no longer fought against an impersonal being, whoever might hold the bank, or against a material tiling, the run of cards — he was fighting against a man, whose unvarying good fortune exasperated him, whose coolness irritated him, and whose cringing manners, mincing tone and exaggerated politeness, acted on his nerves to an indescribable degree. He felt that his opponent was hostile to him; he knew not why, and he was very far from even a suspicion of Cooke's plans. He took him, in all good faith, for a foreigner, but something told him that he was face to face with an enemy, and that he had better be on his guaud. And the further he went, the more obstinately did he determine to conquer this invincible foe. A species of drunkenness, the most dangerous of all — that produced by gambling — had seized on his mind ; the cards spread out on the table, were no longer cards to him—

they were swords, whose points he was endeavouring to direct against Cooke's breast. But the latter, equally ready for attack and defence, parried his adversary's blow, and, on every occasion, indulged him with a fresh thrust. The battle had, moreover, become general, and the confusion terrible. From the time when all the money of the players had passed into Cooke's bank, papers of all sorts and sizes, and "kites" of every description flooded the gaming table. One wrote on a scrap of paper, "Good for ten pounds," "Good for a hundred pounds," another put down a ring, saying that it represented five-and-twenty pounds. A third, who had already staked his keys, his watch, and his sieve-links, rummaged in his pockets for the last time, and finding only a tooth-pick there, handed it to the banker for two hundred pounds. It was a curious thing to see all these people attaching a considerable value to articles intrinsically worthless, and disputing with obstinocy over them as if a fortune was in question. And yet, such is the power of gold that when a real pound appeared by chance on the table, every player at once made innumerable efforts to gain possession of it. The man who wbs hesitating Avhether to play or throw up, decided on the former, for the simple reason, that iv his opponent's pile, his eye had suddenly caught the glitter of a sovereign. At 8 a.m. Cooke still held the bank. But for some time past he had been taking the precaution to stuff away in his purse and in his pockets, all the 1.0. U.S., signed by Brownpath and all the actual coin. He no longer played with any money but Avhat was owing to him, and against toothpicks he staked other toothpicks or something having an equally imaginary value. He seemed to attach veritable importance only to the "kites " flown by Brownpath. On these Cooke looked as on bank notes; he put them by themselves in a heap, and never on any account made use of them to pay any losses which he sustained. It so happened that he had to hand over five hundred pounds to the Spaniard, but he preferred pulling gold out of his pocket to parting with an 1.0. U. signed by Brownpath, Avhich he had in his hand.

At length, when the Brownpath heap had assumed respectable proportions, Cook declared he was thoroughly done up, and that his bed urgently demanded his presence. There was nothing contrary to custom in this. They had commenced by agreeing to cease playing at eight o'clock, then at nine, and then at ten, but it was now eleven, and even the heaviest winners were at liberty to leave off without being accused of shirking. Nevertheless they prevailed on Cooke to have one deal more. He consented and held this last bank with an air of utter indifference, and a jovial good nature which conciliated every one's goodwill. H even seemed to wish to make blunders so that everybody might leave off quits. In this way at the end of the deal the women had regained, their rings, and all the men their 1.0.U.5., their articles of jewellery, and their tooth, picks. Brownpath alone, " when all accounts had been squared, remained in debt on paper to Cooke to the extent of fourteen thousand pounds.

The game was over. There was a general move. Everybody stretched his arms and legs, and fatigue, in various shapes, forgotten in the excitement of play, came over all when the gambling ceased. At the same time, thanks to the curtains being too suddenly drawn aside, the sun streamed into the room, and his brilliant rays threw into the shade the expiring candles. Every one looked at his neighbour and discovered that he was horribly ugly ; the women especially appeared under a thoroughly disenchanting aspect. The rouge and violet powder with which they had been embellished in the evening, the belladonna which had served to make their eyes look larger, all the trivial things scarcely percepitble by candlelight, but which would not bear the light of day, gave them a strange appeaaance. Cabs were sent for, and the jaded revellers made the best of their way home. Before taking his leave, Brownpath said to Cooke, "Where shall I send you the amount of my debt ?''

"To the Clarendon, if yo\i please. I am living there for the time being," replied the police-agent without hesitation, for he was expecting the question. They parted with a courteous good-bye, and each went his own way. [To he continued.'}