t one _coup_: and the plan he contrived
was this. He procured a pack of pre-arranged cards, which he concealed
in his hat, and when it came to his turn to deal, he intended to drop
the bank cards into his _chapeau_ and cleverly substitute the others;
but this artfully-concocted scheme was disconcerted, by one of his
confederates considering he might make a better and safer thing of it by
telling Le Blanc beforehand. His most imminent peril, and the occasion
when his very existence as a banquier was at stake, was the affair with
the Belgian company, of which Thackeray has given us a detailed account
in his "Kickleburys up the Rhine."

The "proprietaires," besides, suffer considerable losses by the
dishonesty of the croupiers; for, although there is a person expressly
employed to watch them, who sits in a high-backed chair behind the
dealer, yet they are such practised escamoteurs, that they will secrete
a piece of gold without his seeing it. One fellow was detected at
Baden-Baden, who had carried on a system of plunder for a long time with
security. He used to slip a louis-d'or into his snuff-box whenever it
came to his turn to preside over the money department; he was found out
by another _employe_ asking him casually for a pinch of snuff, and
seeing the money gleam in the gaslight. These croupiers are the most
extraordinary race of men it is possible to conceive. They seem to unite
the stoicism of the American Indian to the politeness of the Frenchman
of the _ancien regime_. They are never seen to smile, and wear the same
impassive countenance whether the banque is gaining or losing. In fact,
what do they care as long as their salary is regularly paid? They seem
to fear neither God nor man: for when a shock of the earthquake was felt
at Wisbaden, in 1847, though all the company fled in terror, they
remained grimly at their posts, preferring to go down to their patron
saints with their rouleaux, as an evidence of their fidelity to their
employer. Perhaps, though, they regarded the earthquake as a
preconcerted scheme to rob the banque, the only danger they are
apprehensive of. You may beat them, and yet they smite not again; for
when a young Englishman, bearing an honorable name, vented his rage at
losing by breaking a rake at Baden-Baden over the croupier's head, he
merely turned round and beckoned to the attendant gendarme to remove him
and the pieces, and then went on with his parrot-like "rouge
gagne--couleur perd."