f the Casino, when it is "first come, first
served," at the chairs.

Those who had been watching the play at other tables, or those who had
been losing, joined the rush.

"What is she going to do now, _cette petite sorciere_?" was the
question. Hearing it, Mary was flattered to a higher pitch of excitement
and self-confidence. She must, she must do something to justify
everybody's expectation. The Casino was hers, and there was no world
outside--nothing but this magic place of golden light and golden coins.

"What next?" inquired Madame d'Ambre, late mentor, now courtier.

"I'll do whatever you do," said the brown young man, who was English or
American.

She looked at the disc as a seeress looks at a crystal. The spinner had
his hand on the cross-piece of metal which turns the wheel.

"What does that 0 mean, on the little brown square between the red and
black numbers?" she asked her neighbour gravely.

"That's what they call 'zero.' You can bet on it like any number; but
when it comes, if you're not on it, all your stakes go--biff!--except on
the simple chances, when you are put in 'prison,' or else you can take
back half. Lots of people like zero better than anything, because they
think the croupiers try to spin it, for the good of the bank. It's
called _l'ami de la maison_."

"How nice and friendly," said Mary. "I'll put money on zero. What's the
maximum?"

"The same as on the other numbers _en plein_: nine louis."

"Then I'll have that on zero," said Mary.

Many players followed her lead, and every one was calling out "zero" and
pushing or throwing coins to the croupiers to be staked on that chance.

"Zero!"

Mary was paid nine times thirty-five louis, six thousand three hundred
francs, and the others who, superstitiously following her lead, had
risked five-franc pieces and louis on _l'ami de la maison_, shared her
luck in different degrees.

"Zero once more, please, Madame," said Mary to her companion.

"But no! impossible! It will be something else."

"Perhaps. Still--I will try."

She was right. Zero came again, followed by louder rounds of applause.
By this time the whole Casino knew what was going on. A glorified
amateur, an English girl, was winning maximums on numbers again and
again, in succession, at the table nearest the wall-portrait of the
architect, in the Salle Schmidt. Non-players or discouraged losers bore
down upon the "architect's table," running even from the distant
trente-e