Part 41 (2/2)
”None whatever,” replied I; ”for if there is any one man who deserves to be punished for his conduct towards me, it is Harcourt. Will you come up, Captain Atkinson, and, if not better engaged, take a quiet dinner and a bottle of wine with me?”
Our conversation during dinner was desultory; but after the first bottle, Atkinson became communicative, and his history not only made me feel better inclined towards him, but afforded me another instance, as well as Carbonnell's, how often it is that those who would have done well are first plundered, and then driven to desperation by the heartlessness of the world. The cases, however, had this difference, that Carbonnell had always contrived to keep his reputation above water, while that of Atkinson was gone and never to be re-established. We had just finished our wine when a note was brought from Harcourt, informing me that he should send a friend the next morning for an explanation of my conduct. I handed it over to Atkinson. ”My dear sir, I am at your service,” replied he, ”without you have anybody among your acquaintances whom you may prefer.”
”Thank you,” replied I, ”Captain Atkinson: it cannot be in better hands.”
”That is settled, then; and now where shall we go?”
”Wherever you please.”
”Then I shall try if I can win a little money to-night: if you come you need not play--you can look on. It will serve to divert your thoughts, at all events.”
I felt so anxious to avoid reflection, that I immediately accepted his offer; and, in a few minutes, we were in the well-lighted room, and in front of the _rouge et noir_ table, covered with gold and bank notes.
Atkinson did not commence his play immediately, but p.r.i.c.ked the chances on a card as they ran. After half an hour he laid down his stakes, and was fortunate. I could no longer withstand the temptation, and I backed him; in less than an hour we both had won considerably.
”That is enough,” said he to me, sweeping up his money; ”we must not try the slippery dame too long.”
I followed his example, and shortly afterwards we quitted the house. ”I will walk home with you, Newland: never, if you can help it, especially if you have been a winner, leave a gaming house alone.”
Going home, I asked Atkinson if he would come up; he did so, and then we examined our winnings. ”I know mine,” replied he, ”within twenty pounds, for I always leave off at a certain point. I have three hundred pounds, and something more.”
He had won three hundred and twenty-five pounds. I had won ninety pounds. As we sat over a gla.s.s of brandy and water, I inquired whether he was always fortunate. ”No, of course I am not,” replied Atkinson; ”but on the whole, in the course of the year, I am a winner of sufficient to support myself.”
”Is there any rule by which people are guided who play? I observed many of those who were seated p.r.i.c.king the chances with great care, and then staking their money at intervals.”
”_Rouge et noir_ I believe to be the fairest of all games,” replied Atkinson; ”but where there is a percentage invariably in favour of the bank, although one may win and another lose, still the profits must be in favour of the bank. If a man were to play all the year round, he would lose the national debt in the end. As for martingales, and all those calculations, which you observed them so busy with, they are all useless. I have tried everything, and there is only one chance of success, but then you must not be a gambler.”
”Not a gambler?”
”No; you must not be carried away by the excitement of the game, or you will infallibly lose. You must have a strength of mind which few have, or you will be soon cleaned out.”
”But you say that you win on the whole: have you no rule to guide you?”
”Yes, I have: strange as the chances are, I have been so accustomed to them, that I generally put down my stake right: when I am once in a run of luck, I have a method of my own, but what it is I cannot tell; only this I know, that if I depart from it, I always lose my money. But that is what you may call good luck, or what you please--it is not a rule.”
”Where, then, are your rules?”
”Simply these two. The first it is not difficult to adhere to: I make a rule never to lose but a certain sum if I am unlucky when I commence-- say twenty stakes, whatever may be the amount of the stake that you play. This rule is easily adhered to, by not taking more money with you; and I am not one of those to whom the croupier or porters will lend money. The second rule is the most difficult, and decides whether you are a gambler or not. I make a rule always to leave off when I have won a certain sum--or even before, if the chances of my game fluctuate.
There is the difficulty: it appears very foolish not to follow up luck; but the fact is, fortune is so capricious, that if you trust her more than an hour, she will desert you. This is my mode of play, and with me it answers but it does not follow that it would answer with another.
But it is very late, or, rather, very early--I wish you a good night.”
PART TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
BECOME PRINc.i.p.aL INSTEAD OF SECOND IN A DUEL, AND RISK MY OWN AND ANOTHER'S LIFE, MY OWN AND OTHERS' HAPPINESS AND PEACE OF MIND, BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN PUNISHED AS I DESERVED.
After Captain Atkinson had left me, I stated to Timothy what had pa.s.sed.
”And do you think you will have to fight a duel, sir?” cried Timothy with alarm.
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