Evening Star Newspaper, February 9, 1930, Page 88

[ }] THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. ?, FEBRUARY 9, 1930 THE BIG WINN ER-—3y E: Phillips 0ppenneim Another Thrilling Tale From the Pen of a Master of Short Story—Mr. Oppenheim Knows Monte Carlo and He Tells More of the Adventures of Andrew Tresholm. NSTALLED in an easy chair in a corner / of that somberly lighted bar—a quaint contrast to the brilliantly illuminated, somewhat garish restaurant adjoining— Tresholln became suddenly tense, as- sailed by a wave of memories. He bent for- ward, his lean face strained, his eyes fixed upon the approaching figure. A strange flood of memories this—the pun- gent perfume of the Campagna herbs, the April sunlight flooding the plain, even to the out- skirts of the city, the dark and splendid out- line of St. Peter’s itself, the music of those hasty words, the longing of her dark eyes, then the thundering of hoofs, the crack of the hunts- man’s whip—off again into the mild distrac- tion of the hunt! But oh, that perfume, how it clung! It was Lena who recognized him—a child when he had left Rome. She caught at the arm of her companion. “Margherita, see, it is Signor Tresholm!” He came forward then. The world of sweet fancies and memories had slipped back where it belonged. He smiled and raised her fingers to his lips. “Princess,” he murmured. “You, Andrew!” she replied. : The seconds possessed their full measure of bitter sweetness. Lena claimed her few words, and the princess turned towards their compan- ijon—a somewhat weary-looking elderly man. “Duke,” she said, “let me present Mr. Andrew Tresholm—the Duca di Michani. 8ignor Tres- holm was at his embassy in Rome when my husband interested himself in politics—five, six, alas, seven years ago.” The two men shook hands. “I knew your chief very well, of course, “You are not by any fortunate chance alone?” she asked. . . . “Yes? Then join us. Indeed, , you will relieve me of some anxiety. It to explain. This little enter- is undertaken much against my ld be of great assistance if you ] o with pleasure,” Tresholm ac- warn you, though, that I sel- music was to your fancy, danced like you.” that reason,” he rejoined, £.f “Lena is the sister of my heart,” she ac- “Always she understands. Now, before I bring myself to realize how happy it has made me—even this brief meeting—let me tell you of this embarrassment in which we find “Tell me, by all means,” he begged, and glanced at her. “Dear friend,” she confided, “last month we anounced Lena’s engagement to Bartoldi.” “I read of it,” Tresholm murmured. “In spite of our vow not to write, I nearly sent you & line.” “The affair seemed well enough. Bartoldi 1s poor, but Lena is rich. I knew little of the young man. Like most others, he was supposed to be gay. What would you have? He is only 24. It was thought that marriage would be good for him. I begin to doubt it. Indeed, I am frightened.” “Tell me exactly why,” Tresholm suggested. “We discovered one thing—he is a gambler.” “Just how do things stand at present?” Tres- holm asked. “Gastone, as I told you, is not rich,” the princess explained. “He comes here as our guest. He brought with him 100,000 lire for gambling. He has lost that. He has drawn another 100,000 lire from home, he has bor- rowed some from me, and tonight he has borrowed from Lena. “It is not only his money losses, but he him- self is changing. Lena and I refuse to play at all, hoping that may have some effect. We came here last night with Michani and two other friends. Gastone arrived just as we were leaving. He behaved disgracefully, He quar- reled with the man with whom Lena was danc- ing, and declared that until she was married she must dance with no one but him. He made a scene. I was much ashamed, and a little frightened. “Today he has obtained money somehow, and he is playing. As soon as he has lost it all, I fear that he will follow us here. He will, per- haps, make himself disagreeable. Last night he behaved like a madman. He wanted to fight a perfectly harmless youth with whom she was dancing.” She broke off while Tresholm ordered supper and wine. Almost immediately Lena and her escort returned to the table. Conversation be- came gay. The duke, approving alike of the caviar and the champagne, unbent. He danced again with Lena. The princess looked at her companion, and a little smile parted her lips. “The dances are not the same, but the music—it remains. Andrew, you will dance with me?” The world of sweet fancies and memories had slipped back where it belonged. He smiled and raised her fingers to his lips. words, but the silence had its tumuiltuous charm. When at last they sat down, it seemed to Tresholm that she was avoiding his eyes. Then suddenly she touched his sleeve. “Bartoldi!” she exclaimed. ‘“Look! doorway.” Tresholm turned and met the gaze of the young man who had just entered. Bartoldi was very decorative, but he was not altogether sober. He stood there, gloomy, almost fero- clous-looking. The princess waved. He ap- proached with deliberate footsteps. “I looked for you in the club,” he said. “It was arranged, I thought, that we should come here.” The princess toyed with her fan. “At <2 o'clock, dear Gastone,” she reminded him. “At 1 o'clock you were still playing. We persuaded the duke to be our escort, and I was fortunate snough to find here one of my dearest friends . . « Mr. Andrew Tresholm—Prince Bartoldi.” The greeting between the two men was of the slightest. There was a smile, however, upon Tresholm'’s lips. “The prince occupies himself a great deal with the game,” he remarked. “I do. And you?” “As yet, I have not played.” “But surely you have been here for some time?” the asked. “Three weeks,” Tresholm confessed. ‘The young man was staring at him solemnly. “You have been here three weeks” he re- peated, “and you have not yet entered the Casino or the Sporting Club?” “Not yet.” In the THE music was once more alluring. Lena smiled at Bartoldi. ‘“We dance, Gastone, yes?” The young man muttered something in Italian. Tresholm rose. “Perhaps you will honor me,” he begged. She rose without hesitation. Bartold set down his glass. “Lenal” She affected not to hear him and would have hurried her partner off, but Tresholm lingered for a moment. “Signor Tresholm,” Baltoldi said, “I do not know who you are. The signorina is my flancee, and in Italy it is not the custom—" “Pity we're in Monaco,” Tresholm interrupted pleasantly, as he moved away. . The princess leaned forward. “Gastone,” she said, “it seems to me that we, who may be your new relatives, will have a little more to put up with than we expected. There is one thing, however, which I should never forgive, and that is your making yourself ridiculous before any dear friend of mine. You may make yourself at ease econcerning Signor Tresholm. He is an Englishman of distinguished family who was in the diplomatic service of his coun- try when I knew him. Continue your supper, please. You have lost again, I fear.” “I have lost,” the young man acknowledged sullenly. “I have lost all the money I could scrape together, and all the money they would lend me at the bar. Never was any one plagued with such accursed luck.” “It is & little message from fate,” the princess told him. “You are not meant to win. The man who plays against fate, plays hopelessly.” “Women know nothing about gambling,” Bartoldi declared savagely. “That may be why we win,” was the suave rejoinder . . . ‘Tresholm and his partner returned, and the supper party drifted on without disaster. To- ward its close, Tresholm found himself once more alone with his hostess. Lena and Michani were dancing, and Bartoldi had gone to the bar in search of an acquaintance. “What am I to do?” the princess asked Tres- holm suddenly, “I believe that Gastone is mot s0 bad. It is just this gambling. And Lena, alas, adores him. Already he has borrowed all our spare money, and my hands now are tled. I have promised my husband I will lend him no more. What can one do with him? Advise me, dear friend.” Tresholm smoked thoughtfully for a moment, “I will do what I can to help him. You have your car here? Very well. When you leave, the duke can escort you and your sister. I will propose to Prince Bartoldi that he and I walk to the hotel. If I fail with the young man, I can at least let you know at the end of four days what I think of him.” “You are just as sweet to me as ever, dear Andrew,” she whispered. “If only I had the courage in those days!"” He shook his head. “Your place, dear Margherita,” he sighed, “was always in the great world.” They left soon afterward. On the pavement outside, Tresholm offered his cigarette case to the young man. “Shall we walk?” he suggested. “It is omly a few yards to the Paris, and Michani is suffi- cient escort for our hostess and the signorina.” The young man assented without gracious- ness, “Had bad luck at the tables, haven't you?” Tresholm asked. “Infernal,” was the disgusted assent. “It is all a matter of capital. I could have got it back, but I can’t raise any more money. The old prince is a miser, my lawyer is in England, and not one of my friends is out here.” “Upon certain conditions,” Tresholm said, “I will be your banker to the extent of, say, a mil- lion francs.” “I will pay any interest,” the young man de- clared eagerly. “I am not concerned about interest,” Tres- holm assured him. “If I lend you this money, you will give me an I. O. U. and pay me back the exact sum, but—you won't like my terms.” “It is now,” Tresholm reflected, “Tuesday morning. - The sum I mentioned will be at your disposal on PFriday at midnight. The terms are these: That between now and then you do not attempt to gamble; you do whatever I choose.” “You are not going to ask that I do anything impossible during the four days?” the young man ventured. “Nothing whatever. Most of the time I shall spend with you.” They turned into the Hotel de Paris. “I thank you, sir,” Bartoldi said. “It is so arranged then. Tomorrow morning, I am at your service.” “Turn up at half past 10 in tennis kit,"” enjoined. Bartoldi was a slow starter at tennis on the following morning, but improved considerably toward the close of the seance. Tresholm, who had won the first three sets, was obliged to fight hard for the fourth, and lost the fifth, They wandered off to the royalty of cocktails with the princess and Lena, who had been ine terested spectators. The princess took Trese holm’s arm. “Dear friend,” she remonstrated, “I hear that you have offered to lend Gastone money, with- out any festrictions as to gambling.” Tresholm nodded. “He doesn't get it till mide night on Friday, though,” he reminded her, .:n:h\!ntfl then he’s on his honor not to play HEY drank their cocktails in the sunshine, and on a sudden fnspiration motored out to Beaulieu for luncheon. Afterward the princess suggested a visit to Cannes, but Trese holm shook his head. “If you don’t mind,” he begged, “Bartoldi and I want to go to the Sporting Ciub.” The young man'’s eyes glittered. The prineess and Lena were astonished. “To the Sporting Club!” the latter exclaimed. *I thought Gastone was not to play till Friday.” “We aren't going to play; we're going to " Tresholm confided. At a few minutes past 4 the event for ‘which Monte Carlo had been waiting took place. Tresholm mounted the steps of the Sporting Club, accompanied by Bartoldi, and turned into the bureau. “Got to get my ticket,” he explained. The young Italian stared at him incredulously, Do you mean to say that you haven't even taken a ticket out?” he demanded. The chef at the trente-et- rante board sent at once for a supply of five-mille plaques. The man whose appearance had created such a sensation, however, entered the gambling rooms modestly. He made no attempt to change any money. His companion stood with his eyes on the board. “Quartorze,” he groaned, as the spin was concluded. “Signor Tresholm, let me have & mille. I must back seven and twenty-nine after fourteen.” “What on earth for?” Tresholm demanded., “Under our conditions you are not playing.” “And you? Your will not play either?” Bare toldi asked. “No, not at present.” ‘The next number was thirty-four, the next thirty-five, the following one six. “You'd have lost your money, wouldn't you?* Tresholm. remarked casually. “Look at that Dutchman,” Bartoldi whispered, “He must have eighty-mille there.” Tresholm nodded. “Clever fellow!” he mure mured. “Let’s watch some of the other tables.” They wandered down to the far end of the réom. When they came back, the Dutchman at the plaque table was changing a bundle of mille notes. “Soon lost his eighty mille,” Tresholm obe served. “Jolly interesting, isn’t it? Let's look at the chemie.” ‘The chemie game was dragging wearily along, At cach table, the croupier glanced round ale most wistfully at their approach. Tresholm ree mained blandly indifferent. “Time for our first cocktail,” he suggested to his companion. “Thank heaven!” the other replied. They sat down and smoked in a corner of the bar. “Queer thing at that table that's just broken up,” Tresholm remarked. “Eight people went to cash in their chips, and there wasn't & winner among them. Cagnotte had the lot. Jolly interesting to watch all the same! Drink up quickly, and we'll get back to the roulette.” HEN the time came, the young man rose unwillingly. Things at the table had changed. The Dutchman was nervously fine gering the last of his mille notes. A newe comer had collected a pile of plaques. They watched for a time and then walked down to the other tables. When they came back, the Dutchman had increased his stock by a few plaques. The newcomer was casiing mille notes. “Must play badly, these fellows, I think,*” Tresholm observed. *They never scem to keep