Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
Le Queux, William, 1864-1927
English
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Below is a summary of Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo
MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
By William Le Queux
1921
MADEMOISELLE OF MONTE CARLO
FIRST CHAPTER
THE SUICIDE'S CHAIR
"Yes! I'm not mistaken at all! _It's the same woman!_" whispered the
tall, good-looking young Englishman in a well-cut navy suit as he stood
with his friend, a man some ten years older than himself, at one of the
roulette tables at Monte Carlo, the first on the right on entering the
room--that one known to habitual gamblers as "The Suicide's Table."
"Are you quite certain?" asked his friend.
"Positive. I should know her again anywhere."
"She's very handsome. And look, too, by Jove!--how she is winning!"
"Yes. But let's get away. She might recognize me," exclaimed the younger
man anxiously. "Ah! If I could only induce her to disclose what she
knows about my poor father's mysterious end then we might clear up the
mystery."
"I'm afraid, if all we hear is true about her, Mademoiselle of Monte
Carlo will never do that," was the other's reply as they moved away
together down the long saloon towards the trente-et-quarante room.
"_Messieurs! Faites vos jeux_," the croupiers were crying in their
strident, monotonous voices, inviting players to stake their counters
of cent-sous, their louis, or their hundred or five hundred franc notes
upon the spin of the red and black wheel. It was the month of March, the
height of the Riviera season, the fetes of Mi-Careme were in full swing.
That afternoon the rooms were overcrowded, and the tense atmosphere of
gambling was laden with the combined odours of perspiration and perfume.
Around each table were crowds four or five deep behind those fortunate
enough to obtain seats, all eager and anxious to try their fortune upon
the rouge or noir, or upon one of the thirty-six numbers, the columns,
or the transversales. There was but little chatter. The hundreds of
well-dressed idlers escaping the winter were too intent upon the game.
But above the click of the plaques, blue and red of different sizes,
as they were raked into the bank by the croupiers, and the clatter of
counters as the lucky players were paid with deft hands, there rose ever
and anon:
"_Messieurs! Faites vos jeux!_"
Here English duchesses rubbed shoulders with the most notorious women in
Europe, and men who at home in England were good churchmen and exemplary
fathers of families, laughed merrily with the most gorgeously attired
cocottes from Paris, or the stars of the film world or the variety
stage. Upon that wide polished floor of the splendidly decorated Rooms,
with their beautiful mural paintings and heavy gilt ornamentation, the
world and the half-world were upon equal footing.
Into that stifling atmosphere--for the Administration of the Bains de
Mer of Monaco seem as afraid of fresh air as of purity propaganda--the
glorious afternoon sunlight struggled through the curtained windows,
while over each table, in addition to the electric light, oil-lamps
shaded green with a billiard-table effect cast a dull, ghastly
illumination upon the eager countenances of the players. Most of those
who go to Monte Carlo wonder at the antiquated mode of illumination.
It is, however, in consequence of an attempted raid upon the tables one
night, when some adventurers cut the electric-light main, and in the
darkness grabbed all they could get from the bank.
The two English visitors, both men of refinement and culture, who had
watched the tall, very handsome woman in black, to whom the older
man had referred as Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, wandered through
the trente-et-quarante rooms where all was silence, and counters,
representing gold, were being staked with a twelve-thousand franc
maximum.
Those rooms beyond are the haunt of the professional gambler, the man
or woman who has been seized by the demon of speculation, just as others
have been seized by that of drugs or drink. Curiously enough women
are more prone to gamble than men, and the Administration of the
Etablissement will tell you that when a woman of any nationality starts
to gamble she will become reckless until her last throw with the devil.
Those who know Monte Carlo, those who have been habitues for twenty
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