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GAMBLING DENS.

LONDON'S HAUNTS.

FORTUNES MADE AND LOST.

There is a mystery, allurement, and romance m the great gambling dens of the West End of London. Fortunes are won and lost in a few hours. Men—and women also—-go there filled with high hopes. They leave a few hours later, penni'lcss. The hours between midnight and dawn witness, behind sealed doors, many a human tragedy. There are from a dozen to twenty of these Monte Carlos of Mayfair. Some of them have a "turnover" of from £20,000 to £30,000 per night. The "house" takes 5 per cent of every pool. It is a profitable game I I know one of these houses, in the most select corner of the fashionable area close to Park Lane and Curzon Street (writes the correspondent mentioned). It bears the hallmark of rank and style. It rubs shoulders with the town mansions of dukes and earls, A deftly-made brazen knocker lends distinction to its front door, powdered lackeys open the lordly portal. Silver trays glitter on the hall table, and the velvet pile carpet te soft to the footstep. The mural decorations are in perfect taste. The soft roseate light falls gently on the eye. Syndicates.

Strongly financed syndicates run these gambling dens. They do not buy premises outright. The business is too risky. They watch for news that a peer or other rich man is ileaving town for six months, and is to close his town house, and a tempting offer lis made, through a third party of supposed high for a six months' lease. The syndicate obtains possession, and the unsuspecting owner deeparts on his hohday several hundred pounds richer. Then the syndicate starts operations. The home of wealthy respectability becomes in a week the centre of a great organisation, which has secret emissaries in every great hotel in London.

A staff of servants, including butlers and footmen in gorgeous attire and specially trained for the work, is installed. Great stores of the finest wines and table delicacies are obtained and the spider's web is ready. The emissaries, who are known as "friends," have meanwhile been pursuing their prey. These "touts"— for that is what they really are—are generally cx-garoblers, down on their luck.

Their favourite hunting grounds are the most exclusive hotels. Here they cut a dash, are hail-follow-well-met, and ingratiate themselves mto the society of likely victims. The young man who has just come into a fortune, and is out to burn his money, is carefully watched. Sometimes an American millionaire who Is

".doing Europe" is drawn stealthily into the net. The "friend" must work with intimate tact and discretion. Frequently he plays his fish for several days before he remarks casually that he has some friends of high rank living in such-and-such a street in Mayfair, and suggests a visit, where the opportunity is offered of meeting members of the British aristocracy. Halls of Splendour.

He tells his victim that he can come as his friend; that no other introduction is necessary. They arrive. The resplendent footmun bows obsequiously to the "tout' and his friend, and ushers them into the entrance hall. Another footman takes their coats and hats. They pass up the marble staircase between more footmen, while armoured ancestors of the owner of the house look down on them from the panelled walls. All is animation <in the drawingroom. Soon the visitor finds himself the centre of- a gay throng of pretty women.

The women are drawn from several classes. Many of them are directly in the service of the syndicate. There are buffets laden with the choicest products of Champagne, and Bordeaux, and Capri. Footmen are everywhere. The rarest and the finest fruits and game are at the disposal of all. The victim is in his seventh heaven.

It is open house. His companions are all smiles. What a welcome, what a bountiful hospitality, what ideal surroundings! The luxury, the stimulants, the social atmosphere fas-. cinate him. He is at peace with all the world. All this is but the prelude to the real business of the evening. What happens later and how the' victim pays is another story.

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/WT19230823.2.73

Bibliographic details

Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 15321, 23 August 1923, Page 8

Word Count
691

GAMBLING DENS. Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 15321, 23 August 1923, Page 8

GAMBLING DENS. Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 15321, 23 August 1923, Page 8