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Page 31
The gay parties of callers on Mrs. LeMar were nothing other than
gamblers. The old gambling dens of the icebox doors and steel
gratings, of white-coated servants and free food and drink, had
passed away with "reform." Here was a remarkable new phase of
sporting life which had gradually taken its place.
Constance had been looking about curiously in the meantime. On a
table she saw copies of the newspapers which published full accounts
of the races, something that looked like a racing sheet, and a
telephone conveniently located near writing materials. It was a
poolroom, too, then, in the daytime, she reasoned.
Surely, in the next room, when the light was on, she saw what looked
like a miniature roulette wheel, not one of the elaborate affairs of
bright metal and ebony, but one of those that can almost be packed
into a suitcase and carried about easily.
That was the secret of the flashily dressed men and women who called
on Bella LeMar. They were risking everything, perhaps even honor
itself, on a turn of a wheel, the fall of a card, a guess on a
horse.
Why had Bella LeMar invited her here? she asked herself.
At first Constance was a little bit afraid that she might have
plunged into too deep water. She made up her mind to quit when her
losses reached a certain nominal point. But they did not reach it.
Perhaps the gamblers were too clever. But Constance seemed always to
keep just a little bit ahead of the game.
One person in particular in the group interested her as she
endeavored intuitively to take their measure. It was Haddon Halsey,
immaculately garbed, with all those little touches of smartness
which women like to see.
Once she caught Halsey looking intently at her. Was it he who was
letting her win at his expense! Or was his attention to her causing
him to neglect his own game and play it poorly?
She decided to quit. She was a few dollars ahead. For excuse she
pleaded a headache.
Bella accepted the excuse with a cordial nod and a kind inquiry
whether she might not like to lie down.
"No, thank you," murmured Constance. "But the cards make me nervous
to-night. Just let me sit here. I'll be all right in a minute."
As she lolled back on a divan near the players Constance noted, or
thought she noted, now and then exchanges of looks between Bella and
Watson. What was the bond of intimacy between them? She noted on
Mrs. Noble's part that she was keenly alive to everything that
Halsey did. It was a peculiar quadrangle.
Halsey was losing heavily in his efforts to retrieve his fortunes.
He said nothing, but accepted the losses grimly. Mrs. Noble,
however, after each successive loss seemed more and more nervous.
At last, with a hasty look at her wrist watch, she gave a little
suppressed scream.
"How the time flies!" she cried. "Who would have thought it as late
as that? Really I must go. I expect my husband back from a
director's meeting at ten, and it's much easier to be home than to
have to think up an excuse. No, Haddon, don't disturb yourself. I
shall get a cab at the door. Let me see--two hundred and twenty-
eight dollars." She paused as if the loss staggered her. "I'll have
to sign another I O U for it, Bella. There!"
She left in a flutter, as if some one had winked out the light by
which she, poor little butterfly, had singed her wings, and there
was nothing for her but to fly away alone in the darkness with her
secret.
Halsey accompanied her to the door. For a moment she raised a
questioning face to his, and shot a half covert glance at Constance.
Then, as if with an effort, adhering to her first resolution to go
alone, she whispered earnestly, "I hope you win. Luck MUST turn."
Halsey plunged back into the game, now with Bella holding a hand. He
played recklessly, then conservatively. It made no difference. The
cards seemed always against him. Constance began really to feel
alarmed at his manner.
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