“Describe her as well as you can.”
“She was a big girl, tall and broad and strong looking. Sort of athletic in her movements. She had a square face, if you know what I mean; a big jaw, determined looking.”
“What about her colouring?”
“She was like myself, fair with blue eyes and a fair complexion.”
“Her age?”
“About thirty, I should think.”
French noted the particulars.
“Well, you made friends with this Miss Lestrange. Yes?”
“The thing that struck me most about her was that she seemed so well off. She was always well dressed, had a big fur coat and expensive gloves and shoes. And once when I lunched with her we went to Fuller’s and had a real slap-up lunch that must have cost her as much as I could spend in lunches in a week. And she didn’t seem the type that would be getting it from men.
“I said that I couldn’t return such hospitality as that and she laughed and asked me what I was getting at the Milan. Then she said it was more than she got, but that there were ways of adding to one’s salary. When I asked her how, she smiled at first, but afterwards she told me.”
French’s quiet, sympathetic manner had evidently had its effect. Miss Darke had lost a good deal of her terror, and her story was coming much more spontaneously. French encouraged her with the obvious question.
“She said she had got let in on a good thing through a friend. It was a scheme for gambling on the tables at Monte Carlo.”
“At Monte Carlo?”
“Yes. It was run by a syndicate. They had a man there who did the actual playing. They sent him out the money and he sent back the winnings. You could either choose your number or colour or you could leave it to him to do the best he could for you. If you won you got your winnings less five percent for expenses: if you lost, of course you lost everything. But the man did very well as a rule. He worked on a system and in the long run you made money.”
In spite of himself French became more interested. The story, he felt, was old—as old as humanity. But the setting was new. This Monte Carlo idea was ingenious, though it could take in only the ignorant. Evidently it was for this class that the syndicate catered.
“And that was how Miss Lestrange had made her money?”
“Yes.” Apparently Miss Darke had not questioned the fact. “She said that as a rule she made a couple of pounds a week out of it. I said it was well for her and that I wished that I had an obliging friend who would let me into something of the kind. She didn’t answer for a while and then she said that she didn’t see why I shouldn’t get in if I wanted to. If I liked she would speak to her friend about it.
“I wasn’t very keen at first for at one time or another I had seen a deal of trouble coming through gambling. But I thought a little fling wouldn’t do me any harm so I thanked her and asked her to go ahead. If she won, why shouldn’t I?”
“Why, indeed? And did she arrange it?”
“Yes. I didn’t see her for three or four days, then I met her in the train. She said she had fixed up the thing for me and if I would come in early next morning she would introduce me to the man who took the stakes. Our jobs started about , you will understand, Mr. French, so we had plenty of time earlier.”
“Of course. I suppose you both worked on till the places closed in the evening.”
“That’s right. We were done about or a little later. Well, next morning I met her at and we saw the bookmaker, Mr. Westinghouse. Gwen had told me that his office was rather far away and that he would meet us in the Embankment Gardens at Charing Cross. And so he did.”
“Now before you go on you might describe Mr. Westinghouse.”
“I can tell you just what he was like,” the girl returned. “You know those big American business men that you see on the films? Clean shaven and square chins and very determined and all that? Well, he was like that.”
“I know exactly. Right, Miss Darke. You met Mr. Westinghouse?”
“Yes. Gwen introduced me, and he asked me my name and a lot of questions about myself and he wrote down the answers in a notebook. Then he said he would agree to act for me, but that I was to promise not to mention the affair, as they wanted to keep it in the hands of a few. I promised and he took my stake. It was only five shillings, but he took as much trouble over it as if it had been pounds. He wanted to know if I would like to choose my number, but I said I would leave it to the man on the ground.”
“And what was the result?”
“Mr. Westinghouse said that he couldn’t undertake to let me know before the end of a week, on account of the time it took to write out and back again, and also because the man did not always play, but only when he felt he was going to win. He had a sort of sense for it, Mr. Westinghouse said. So I met him a week later. He said I had done well enough for a start. I had won three times my stake. He gave me nineteen shillings, the fifteen shillings win and my five shillings back, less five percent. I was delighted and I put ten shillings on and kept the nine. That time I doubled my ten and got another nineteen shillings. The next time I lost, but the next I had a real bit of luck.”
“Yes?” French queried
