The Dark Star

"Quite right, old fellow--always right! But--here's an idea! I could

stand at the head of the stairs and throw them down as they mounted,

while you had leisure to look around for your stolen box----"

"My dear Prince Erlik, we've nothing to shoot with, and it's likely

they have. There's only one way to get upstairs with any chance of

learning anything useful. And that is to start a row between

ourselves." And, raising his voice as though irritated, he called for

the reckoning, adding in a tone perfectly audible to anybody in the

vicinity that he knew where roulette was played, and that he was going

whether or not his friend accompanied him.

Sengoun, delighted, recognised his cue and protested in loud, nasal

tones that the house to which his comrade referred was suspected of

unfair play; and a noisy dispute began, listened to attentively by the

pretty but brightly painted cashier, the waiters, the gérant, and

every guest in the neighbourhood.

"As for me," cried Sengoun, feigning to lose his temper, "I have no

intention of being tricked. I was not born yesterday--not I! If there

is to be found an honest wheel in Paris that would suit me. Otherwise,

I go home to bed!"

"It is an honest wheel, I tell you----"

"It is not! I know that place!"

"Be reasonable----"

"Reasonable!" repeated Sengoun appealingly to the people around them.

"Permit me to ask these unusually intelligent gentlemen whether it is

reasonable to play roulette in a place where the wheel is notoriously

controlled and the management a dishonest one! Could a gentleman be

expected to frequent or even to countenance places of evil repute?

Messieurs, I await your verdict!" And he folded his arms

dramatically.

Somebody said, from a neighbouring table: "Vous avez parfaitement raison, monsieur!"

"I thank you," cried Sengoun, with an admirably dramatic bow.

"Therefore, I shall now go home to bed!"

Neeland, maintaining his gravity with difficulty, followed Sengoun

toward the door, still pretending to plead with him; and the gérant,

a tall, blond, rosy and unmistakable German, stepped forward to unlock

the door.

As he laid his hand on the bolt he said in a whisper: "If the gentlemen desire the privilege of an exclusive club where

everything is unquestionably conducted----"

"Where?" demanded Neeland, abruptly.

"On the third floor, monsieur."

"Here?"

"Certainly, sir. If the gentlemen will honour me with their names, and

will be seated for one little moment, I shall see what can be

accomplished."

"Very well," said Sengoun, with a short, incredulous laugh. "I'm

Prince Erlik, of the Mongol Embassy, and my comrade is Mr. Neeland,

Consul General of the United States of America in the Grand Duchy of

Gerolstein!"

The gérant smiled. After he had gone away toward the further room in

the café, Neeland remarked to Sengoun that doubtless their real names

were perfectly well known, and Sengoun disdainfully shrugged his

indifference: "What can one expect in this dirty rat-nest of Europe? Abdul the

Damned employed one hundred thousand spies in Constantinople alone!

And William the Sudden admired him. Why, Neeland, mon ami, I never

take a step in the streets without being absolutely certain that I am

watched and followed. What do I care! Except that towns make me sick.

But the only cure is a Khirgiz horse and a thousand lances. God send

them. I'm sick of cities."