|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 36
Releasing the hand, he sat down.
"Quite well, thank you; in fact, never better." With a slight smile
Mr. Penfield nodded toward the gaming table. "Having a good time?"
"_Thirty-two, red, even_," observed the croupier....
"Oh, tolerable, tolerable," assented P. Sybarite, blandly accepting
counters that called for seven hundred dollars....
"In one year from to-day, I shall be thirty-three," he reckoned; and
shifted a maximum to the square designated by that number....
"What do you think? Is Teddy going to get the nomination?"
"I'm only very slightly interested in politics," returned Mr.
Penfield. "I shouldn't like to express an opinion.... Sorry a prior
engagement obliged me to keep you waiting."
"_Thirty-three, black, odd_...."
"Don't mention it," insisted P. Sybarite politely. "Not another word
of apology--I protest! Indeed, I've managed to divert myself amazingly
while waiting.... Thank you," he added in acknowledgment of another
seven-hundred-dollar consignment of chips. "To-day," he mused aloud,
"is the thirteenth of April--"
"The fourteenth," corrected Mr. Penfield: "to-day is only about two
hours old."
"Right you are," admitted P. Sybarite, shifting twenty dollars from
the 13 to the 14. "Careless memory of mine ..."
"_Thirteen, black, odd_...."
"There, now! You see--you spoiled my aim," P. Sybarite complained
peevishly.
"Forgive me," murmured Mr. Penfield while P. Sybarite made another
wager. "Are you in a hurry to break the bank?" he added.
"It's my ambition," modestly confessed the little man, watching a
second twenty gathered in to the benefit of the house. "But I've only
a few minutes more--and you do play such a _darned_ small game."
"Perhaps I can arrange matters for you," suggested Mr. Penfield.
"You'd like the limit removed?"
"Not as bad as all that. Make the maximum a hundred, and I'll begin to
feel at home."
"Delighted to oblige. You won't object to my rolling for you?"
Penfield nodded to the croupier; who (first paying P. Sybarite seven
hundred on his last wager) surrendered his place.
"Not in the least," agreed P. Sybarite, marshalling his chips in
stacks of five: twenty-five dollars each. "It's an honour," he added,
covering several numbers as Penfield deftly set ball and wheel in
motion.
He won the first fall; and encouraged by this, began to play
extravagantly, sowing the board liberally with wagers of twenty-five,
fifty, and one hundred dollars each. Hardly ever the ball clattered to
a lodgment but he cashed one or another of these; and the number of
times that the house paid him thirty-five hundred dollars passed his
count. All other play at that table ceased; and a gallery of patrons
of the establishment gathered round, following with breathless
interest the fortunes of this shabby little plunger. Their presence,
far from annoying, pleased him; it was just so much additional
assurance of fair play. The mounting of the roulette wheel--it was
placed upon a broad sheet of plate-glass elevated several inches above
the table--was proof against secret manipulation. And a throng of
spectators not only forbade any attempt to call wrong numbers on a
winning cast but likewise insured fair dealing on the part of the
croupier, who was so busy raking in losing bets or paying winnings
that P. Sybarite had time neither to watch him nor to check his
payments.
Penfield, cool and smiling, confined his attention to the wheel. If he
felt any uneasiness or dismay on account of P. Sybarite's steadily
augmented mountain of chips, he betrayed it not at all overtly.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|