Jonah and Co. (21 page)

I was not ‘an old hand,’ and I had no authority for my dictum. My interference was unpardonable. When the two stopped to thank me, as they passed from the room, I felt like a criminal. Still, they looked very charming; and, after all, a frock on the back is worth a score at the dressmaker’s.

“I am going,” said Berry, “to suspend my courtship and smoke a cigarette. Possibly I’m going too strong. If I give the lady a rest, she may think more of me.”

“I suppose,” said Daphne, “you’re bent on losing it all.”

Her husband frowned.

“Fortune favours the bold,” he said shortly. “You see, she’s just proving me. If I were to falter, she’d turn me down.”

It was impossible not to admire such confidence.

I bade my sister take heart.

“Much,” I concluded, “may be done with forty pounds.”

“Fifty,” corrected Berry. “And now let’s change the subject. How d’you pronounce Lwow? Or would you rather tell me a fairy tale?”

I shook my head.

“My power,” I said, “of concentration is limited.”

“Then I must,” said Berry. “It’s fatal to brood over your fortune.” He sat back in his chair and let the smoke make its own way out of his mouth. “There was once a large king. It wasn’t his fault. The girth went with the crown. All the Koppabottemburgs were enormous. Besides, it went very well with his subjects. Looking upon him, they felt they were getting their money’s worth. A man of simple tastes, his favourite hobby was fowls.

“One day, just as he’d finished cleaning out the fowl house, he found that he’d run out of maize. So he slipped on his invisible cloak and ran round to the grocer’s. He always wore his invisible cloak when shopping. He found it cheaper.

“Well, the grocer was just recovering from the spectacle of two pounds of the best maize shoving themselves into a brown-paper bag and pushing off down the High Street, when a witch came in. The grocer’s heart sank into his boots. He hated witches. If you weren’t civil, before you knew where you were, you were a three-legged toad or a dew-pond or something. So you had to be civil. As for their custom – well, it wasn’t worth having. They wouldn’t look at bacon, unless you’d guarantee that the pig had been killed on a moonless Friday with the wind in the North, and as for pulled figs, if you couldn’t swear that the box had been crossed by a one-eyed man whose father had committed arson in a pair of brown boots, you could go and bury them under the lilacs.

“This time, however, the grocer was pleasantly surprised.”

“‘I didn’t know,’ said the witch, ‘that you were under the patronage of Royalty.’”

“‘Oh, didn’t you?’ said the grocer. ‘Why, the Master of the Horse has got his hoof-oil here for nearly two days now.’”

“‘Master of the Horse be snookered,’ said the witch. ‘I’m talking about the king.’”

“‘The K-King?’ stammered the grocer.”

“‘Oh, cut it out,’ said the witch, to whom an invisible cloak meant nothing. ‘No doubt you’ve been told to keep quiet, but I don’t count. And I’ll bet you did the old fool over his maize.’

“The grocer’s brain worked very rapidly. The memory of a tin of mixed biscuits and half a Dutch cheese, which had floated out of his shop only the day before, and numerous other recollections of mysteriously animated provisions came swarming into his mind. At length —

“‘We never charge Royalty,’ he said loftily.

“‘Oh, don’t you?’ snapped the witch. ‘Well, supposing you change this broomstick. You swore blue it was cut on a rainless Tuesday from an ash that had supported a murderer with a false nose. The very first time I used it, it broke at six thousand feet. I was over the sea at the time, and had to glide nearly four miles to make a landing. Can you b-beat it?’

“When the grocer put up his shutters two hectic hours later, he was a weary man. In the interval he had been respectively a toad, a picture postcard, and a tin of baked beans. And somebody had knocked him off the counter during his third metamorphosis, so he felt like death. All the same, before going to bed, he sat down and wrote to the Lord Chamberlain, asking for permission to display the Royal Arms. Just to make it quite clear that he wasn’t relying on hoof-oil, he added that he was shortly expecting a fine consignment of maize and other commodities.

“The postscript settled it.

“The permission was granted, the king ‘dealt’ elsewhere in future, and the witch was given three hours to leave the kingdom. So the grocer lost his two worst customers and got the advertisement of his life. Which goes to show, my children, that if only – Hullo! Here’s a new shift.”

It was true.

The eight croupiers were going off duty. As they vacated their seats, eight other gentlemen in black immediately replaced them.

Berry extinguished his cigarette and handed me his last bunch of notes. In exchange for these, with the peculiar delicacy of his kind, the croupier upon my right selected, arrayed and offered me counters of the value of forty English pounds.

He might have been spared his pains.

As I was piling the money by Berry’s side —

“
Zero
,” announced a nasal voice.

“We’re off,” said my brother-in-law. “Will you see that they pay me right?”

One hundred and seventy-five pounds. Ere I had completed my calculation —

“
Zero
,” repeated the nasal voice.

“I said so,” said Berry, raising his eyebrows. “I had the maximum that time. Will you be so good? Thank you.”

Trembling with excitement, I started to count the equivalent of four hundred and ninety pounds.

Berry was addressing the croupier.

“No. Don’t touch the stake. She’s not finished yet.”

“
Esta hecho
?”

“Don’t leave it all,” begged Daphne. “Take—”

“
No vas mas
.”

Desperately I started to check the money again…

“
Zero
.”

There was a long gasp of wonderment, immediately followed by a buzz of exclamation. The croupiers were smiling. Jill was jumping up and down in her seat. Adèle was shaking Jonah by the arm. My sister was clinging to Berry, imploring him to “stop now.” The two Frenchmen were laughing and nodding their congratulations. The little old lady was bowing and beaming goodwill. Excepting, perhaps, the croupiers, Berry seemed less concerned than anyone present.

“No. I’m not going to stop,” he said gently, “because that would be foolish. But I’ll give it a miss this time, because it’s not coming up. It’s no longer a question of guessing, dear. I tell you, I
know
.”

The ball went flying.

After a moment’s interval —

“
Ocho
(eight),” announced the croupier.

“You see,” said Berry. “I should have lost my money. Now this time my old friend Zero will come along.”

On to the white-edged rectangle went fourteen pounds. A few seconds later I was receiving four hundred and ninety…

I began to feel dazed. As for counting the money, it was out of the question. Idiotically I began to arrange the counters in little piles…

‘35’ turned up.

“That’s right,” said Berry quietly. “And now . It’s really very monotonous, but…”

With a shrug of his shoulders, he set the limit on ‘Zero.’

I held my breath…

The ball ceased to rattle – began to fall – ricochetted from stud to stud – tumbled into the wheel – nosed ‘32’ – and…fell with a click into ‘0.’

Berry spread out his hands.

“I tell you,” he said, “it’s too easy… And now, again.”

“Don’t!” cried Daphne. “Don’t! I beg you—”

“My darling,” said Berry, “after tonight – No. Leave the stake, please – I’ll never play again. This evening – well, the money’s there, and we may as well have it, mayn’t we? I mean, it isn’t as if I hadn’t been given the tip. From the moment I woke this morning – Listen, dear. Don’t bother about the wheel – the lady’s been hammering away. You must admit, she’s done the job thoroughly. First the intuition: then the wherewithal: then, what to back. I should be a bottle-nosed mug if I didn’t—”

“
Zero
.”

Upon the explosion of excitement which greeted the astounding event, patrons of the Baccarat Table and of the other Roulette Wheel left their seats and came crowding open-mouthed to see what was toward. Complete strangers were chattering like old friends. Gibbering with emotion, the Spanish Jew was dramatically recounting what had occurred. The Dutchman was sitting back, laughing boisterously. The Frenchmen were waving and. crying, “
Vive l’Angleterre
.” Jonah was shouting as though he had been in the hunting field. Adèle and Jill were beating upon the table.

Berry bowed his acknowledgments.

As in a dream, I watched them send for more money.

When it arrived, they gave me four hundred and ninety pounds.

“
Hagan juego, Señores
.”

Berry shook his head.

“Not this time,” he said quietly.

He was right. After a look at ‘0’ the ball ran with a click into ‘15’

A long sigh of relief followed its settlement.

“You see?” said Berry, picking up fourteen pounds…

“Don’t,” I said weakly. “Don’t. I can’t bear it. The board’s bewitched. If it turns up again, I shall collapse.”

“You mean that?” said Berry, putting the money on.

“
No va mas
.”

“I do. My heart—”

“Then say your prayers,” said my brother-in-law. “For, as I live, that ball’s going to pick out—”

“
Zero
.”

I never remember such a scene.

Everybody in the room seemed to be shouting. I know I was. Respectable Spaniards stamped upon the floor like bulls. The Frenchmen, who with Berry and several others had backed the winner, were clasping one another and singing the Marseillaise. The beautifully dressed American was wringing Adèle’s hand. The old gentleman in the blue suit was on his feet and appeared to be making a speech. The Spanish girl was standing upon her chair waving a handkerchief…

In vain the smiling croupiers appealed for order…

As the tumult subsided —

“Seven times in ten spins,” said Berry. “Well, I think that’ll do. We’ll just run up the board on the even chances…”

There was no holding him.

Before I knew where I was, he had set twelve thousand pesetas apiece on ‘RED,’ ‘ODD,’ and ‘UNDER 19.’

Some fourteen hundred pounds on a single spin.

I covered my eyes…

As the ball began to lose way, the hush was awful…

“
Siete
(seven),” announced the spokesman.

With my brain whirling, I sought to garner the harvest…

My brother-in-law rose to his feet.

“One last throw,” he said. “‘PASSE’ for ‘The Poor.’”

He leaned forward and put the maximum on ‘OVER 18.’ A moment later, counter by counter, four hundred and seventy pounds went into the poor-box.

As I pushed back my chair, I glanced at my watch.

In exactly sixteen minutes Berry had stung ‘the Bank’ to the tune of – as near as I could make it – four thousand nine hundred and ninety-five pounds.

Some ten hours later we slipped out of San Sebastian and on to the famous road which leads to Biarritz. Berry, Daphne, and Jill were in one car, and Adèle and I were in the other. Jonah and Zed were to travel together by train. It was improbable that they would leave for Pau before the morrow.

As we climbed out of Béhobie, we took our last look at Spain, that realm of majestic distances and superb backgrounds…

You may peer into the face of France and find it lovely; the more you magnify an English landscape, the richer it will become; but to find the whole beauty of Spain, a man must stand back and lift up his eyes.

Now that we had left it behind, the pride and grandeur of the scenery beggared description. It was as though for days we had been looking upon a mighty canvas, and while we had caught something of its splendour, now for the first time had we focused it aright. The memory we took away was that of a masterpiece.

Anxious to be home in time for luncheon, I laid hold of the wheel…

We whipped through St Jean de Luz, sang through Bidart, and hobbled over a fearful stretch of metalling into Bayonne…

As we were nearing Bidache —

“How much,” said Adèle suddenly, “is Berry actually up?”

“Allowing for everything,” said I, “that is, his losses, what he gave to the poor, and the various rates of exchange, about two hundred and forty thousand francs.”

“Not so dusty,” said Adèle thoughtfully. “All the same—”

A report like that of a gun blew the sentence to blazes.

Heavily I took the car into the side of the road…

A second tyre went upon the outskirts of Pau.

Happily we had two spare wheels…

As I was wearily resuming my seat, Berry, Daphne, and Jill went by with a cheer.

Slowly we followed them into the town…

It was not until we were stealing up our own villa’s drive that at length I remembered the question which for over an hour I had been meaning to put to my wife.

As I brought the car to a standstill —

“What was it,” I demanded, “that you had begun to say when we had the first burst near Bidache? We were talking about how much Berry was up, and you said—”

The most blood-curdling yell that I have ever heard fell upon our ears.

For a moment we stared at one another.

Then we fell out of the car by opposite doors and flew up the steps…

Extended upon a chair in the hall, Berry was bellowing, clawing at his temples and drumming with his heels upon the floor.

Huddled together, Daphne and Jill were poring over a letter with starting eyes.

DEAR SIR,

In case the fact has not already come to your notice, we hasten to inform you that as a result of the drawing, which took place on Monday last, one of the Premium Bonds, which we yesterday dispatched to you per registered post, has won the first prize of fr. 500,000 (five hundred thousand francs).

By way of confirmation, we beg to enclose a cutting from the official Bulletin.

We should, perhaps, point out that, in all announcements of the results of drawings, the ‘ 0’ or ‘zero,’ which for some reason invariably precedes the number of a Premium Bond, is disregarded.