ore ways than one for me to
back it, and I would," Mary cried, her cheeks red bonfires of
excitement.

Madame d'Ambre shrugged her thin shoulders, seeing her own profits
diminished. But, a woman of the world, she knew when it was useless to
protest. And perhaps this wild amateur was indeed inspired. "There are
seven ways in which to back your number for one spin," she said, carried
away a little by Mary's spirit. "_En plein_--that is, full on the number
as before; _a cheval_--the number and its neighbour; your own and two
others--_transversale plain_; the _carre_--four in a square; six--the
_transversale simple_: the dozen in which your number is; its column;
also the colour. Twenty-four is black. If your number loses, you may win
on something else."

"Very well. Maximums on all, please."

"Impossible! You may not have money enough. On other chances the
maximums are much larger."

Mary, confused and fearful of being too late, did not stop to reflect or
argue. "Nine louis on each of the chances, then," she panted.

Madame d'Ambre, reflecting selfishly that even if all stakes lost there
would still be a good sum to divide from the last winnings, began
placing money in desperate haste, the croupier delaying for an instant
his _rien ne va plus_, while one of his fellows helped in putting on the
gold. Others, who had finished staking over each other's hats and
shoulders, and the whole ring of watchers outside, awaited the decision
of Mary's destiny with almost as keen interest as if it were their own.

"Vingt-quatre, noir, pair et passe."

A murmur rose, and went to Mary's head like wine. This seemed a miracle,
performed for her. Unconscious of irreverence, she thought that surely
the saints had worked this wonder. She forgot that, because she won,
others must lose.

"It is marvellous! But these blessed amateurs! It is always they who
have the great luck. Twice running--and after twenty-four had been spun
just before twenty-one."

The numbers were all marked in their right colours with roulette pencils
on little cards, or in well-kept notebooks by the players. Every one
knew what had "come out" at the table for many past coups.

"If you'll back twenty-four again, I'll go on it, too," said, in
English, a young man in the chair at Mary's right. He was a brown,
well-groomed, clean-shaven youth, whose hair was so light that it looked
straw-coloured in contrast with his sunburnt skin. "It's _en chaleur_,
as they say