<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER XIII</h2>
<p class="pch">AN INTRODUCTION</p>
<p class="drop-cap16">ARSENIO VALDEZ was in the highest of
spirits that evening—the effect of the registered
letter, no doubt! His fun and
gayety brought back, or even bettered, the boy that
he had been at Cragsfoot; and he assumed a greater,
a more easy, intimacy with me: we had been boy to
man then; we were both men now. He was very
friendly; whatever his feelings might be about encountering
my kindred, evidently he found nothing
awkward in meeting me. As we walked up from
the station at Monte Carlo, he put his arm in mine
and said, “You must dine with me to-night. Yes,
yes, it’s no good shaking your head.” He smiled
as he added, “You may just as well dine with me as
with Lady Dundrannan. But if you feel any
scruples, you may consider the dinner as taken out
of your fifty, you know!”</p>
<p>It was a polite way of telling me that I had seen
the last of my fifty.</p>
<p>“I didn’t send that money altogether for you
alone,” I ventured to observe.</p>
<p>He looked at me. “You remind me, Julius!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</SPAN></span>
Let me do it before we dine, or I might forget.
Half of this little windfall that I have had goes to
Lucinda. Half of it! Ah! there’s a post office.
Wait for me, I won’t be a minute.” And he darted
into the place. When he rejoined me, he wore an
air of great self-satisfaction. “Now I shall enjoy
my evening,” he said; “and all the more when I
think of what I should otherwise have been doing.”</p>
<p>“And what’s that?” I asked; the question did not
seem impertinent in view of his own introduction of
the subject.</p>
<p>“Do you ever frequent what are pharisaically
known as ‘hells’? For my part, I should sooner
call them ‘heavens.’ If you do, you’ll remember a
little bureau, or sometimes just a table, under the
care of a civil official, by whose kind help you change
notes that you had not meant to change, and cash
checks that you had never expected to have to write?
My suave and distinguished manners, together with
my mastery of several languages, enable me to perform
my functions in an ideal way—so much so
that even an occasional indisposition, such as overtook
me this evening, is sure to be benevolently
overlooked. Yes, I’m a cashier in a gambling den,
Julius.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m hanged!” said I, as we entered the
<i>Café de Paris</i>.</p>
<p>We sat down, and Arsenio ordered the best dinner
that was to be had. This done, he proceeded:
“You see, I’m a man who prizes his independence.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</SPAN></span>
In that I resemble Lucinda; it’s one of our points of
union. She insists on pursuing her own occupation,
and accepts an occasional present from me—such as
I’ve just had the pleasure of sending her—only
under protest. When I’m in funds, I insist. So
with me. I also like to have my own occupation; it
gives me the sense of independence that I like.”</p>
<p>“But occasionally you have recourse to——?”</p>
<p>His eyes sparkled at me over his glass of wine.
“My dear Julius, an occasional deviation from one’s
ruling principle—what is it? To err is human, to
forgive divine. And since you’ve forgiven me that
fifty, I shall be positively hurt if you don’t make an
excellent dinner!”</p>
<p>“It’s difficult to over value the privilege of being
your guest,” I observed rather grimly.</p>
<p>He laughed, and went on with his merry chatter.
I tried to take stock of him, as I listened and threw
in a remark here and there. Was he trying to deceive
himself with his talk of independence, or was
he merely trying to deceive me? Or was it that he
did not really care a straw about deceiving either of
us? He might like to puzzle me; that would be in
his monkey vein. Evidently he had given none of
my fifty pounds to Lucinda. Had he really sent her
anything when he went into the post office this evening?
And, if anything, what proportion of his
“windfall”? As much as half? Did Lucinda take
money from him—under protest? Or did she never
get the chance? And did she give him money?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</SPAN></span>
If his object were to puzzle me—he did it! But I
believed what he told me about his occupation; there
was the evidence of his dress suit, and of Madame’s
playful rebuke. Besides, it was in character with
him. When he lacked the wherewithal to play himself,
he would be where others played. At least he
got the atmosphere. Perhaps, too, his suave manners
and linguistic services were worth the price of a
stake to him now and then.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he went on, with a laugh, after describing
one or two odd shifts to which he had been put,
“the war may have paid my dear adopted country all
right—<i>sacro egoismo</i>, you know, Julius!—but it
played the devil with me. Zeppelins and ‘planes
over Venice! All the tenants bolted from my
<i>palazzo</i>, and forgot to leave the rent behind them.
Up to now they’ve not come back. Hence this temporary
fall in my fortunes. But it’ll all come right.”</p>
<p>“It won’t, if you go on gambling with any money
that you happen to get hold of.”</p>
<p>He became serious; at least, I think so. At all
events, he looked serious.</p>
<p>“Julius, I have no more doubt about it than I have
about the fact that I sit here, on this chair, in this
restaurant. Some day—some day soon—I shall
bring off a great <i>coup</i>, a really great <i>coup</i>. That
will reëstablish me. And then I shall have done
with it.” The odd creature’s face took on a rapt,
an almost inspired look. “And that <i>coup</i> will be
made, not at <i>trente-et-quarante</i>, not at baccarat, but<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</SPAN></span>
at good old roulette, and by backing Number 21.
It happened once before—you know when. Well,
it’ll happen again, my friend, and happen even bigger.
Then I shall resume my proper position; I
shall be able to give Lucinda her proper position.
Our happy days will come again.” His voice, always
a melodious one, fell to a soft, caressing note:
“We haven’t lost our love for one another. It’s
only that things have been difficult. But the change
will come!” His voice rose and grew eager again.
“It nearly came with your fifty. It was coming. I
actually saw it coming. But a fellow with a damned
ugly squint came and backed my play, the devil
take him! Oh, you may smile, but I know a <i>jettatore</i>
when I see one! Of course every blessed penny
went!”</p>
<p>“Yes, here he was sincere. It was perhaps his one
sincerity, his only faith. Or could the love he spoke
of—his love for his wife—also be taken as sincere?
Possibly, but there I felt small patience with him.
As to his faith in his gambler’s star, that was in its
way pathetic. Besides, are not we all of us prone to
be somehow infected by a faith like that, however
ridiculous our reason tells us that it is?</p>
<p>“That’s a rum idea of yours about Number 21,”
I said (I apologize for saying it thoughtfully!);
“you somehow associate it with——?”</p>
<p>“There’s really no need of your diplomacy,” he
mocked me. “What I didn’t tell you about it, Lucinda
did. Number 21 won me Lucinda.” He<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</SPAN></span>
paused, gave a pull to his cigarette—we had by now
begun smoking—and added, “Won me Lucinda
back, I mean. But you know, I think, all about us.”</p>
<p>“And you know, it seems, about my meeting with
her—it must be nearly three years ago. I mean—at
Ste. Maxime?”</p>
<p>“She told me about it. She had been so delighted
to see you. You made great friends, you and she?
Well, she always liked you. I think you liked
her. In fact”—he smoked, he sipped his coffee,
then his cognac—“in fact, I’ve always wondered
why you chose to consider yourself out of the running
that summer at Cragsfoot long ago. You
chose to play the fogy, and leave Waldo and me to
do battle.”</p>
<p>“She was a child, and I——”</p>
<p>“As for a child—well, I found her more than
that. So did Waldo. As for your venerable years—a
girl is apt to take a man’s age at his own reckoning.
Short of a Methuselah, that is. Well, if
you ever had a chance—I think you had—you’ve lost
it. You’ll never get her now, Julius!”</p>
<p>“How much more damned nonsense are you going
to talk to-night, you—you Monkey?”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, I’m still Monkey Valdez, aren’t I?
The Monkey that stole the fruit! But I got it, and
I shall keep it. After what she’s done for me,
could I ever distrust her?” His voice sounded as
it had when he spoke of Number 21.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I certainly think that you’ve tried her pretty
high already,” I remarked dryly.</p>
<p>“And you’re very angry with me about it?”</p>
<p>“What would be the good? Only I wish the
devil you’d pull yourself together now.”</p>
<p>“Remember Number 21!” And now his voice
sounded as it had when he spoke of Lucinda!</p>
<p>“Where is she now, Arsenio? Still at Ste.
Maxime?”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t possibly tell you where she is without
her permission.”</p>
<p>“Oh, stuff! If you think that she and I are such
friends—I hope we are—surely——?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that she would care to receive
visits from a member of Lady Dundrannan’s house
party.”</p>
<p>“Good Lord, I forgot that!”</p>
<p>“And I certainly wouldn’t take the responsibility
of concealing that fact about you—with the chance
of her discovering it afterwards. As for you,
wouldn’t you get into hot water with both ladies, if
your duplicity happened to be discovered? As regards
one another, aren’t they a trifle sensitive?”
He leaned back in his chair, with an air of amusement
at the situation which he had suggested. “Even
your little visit to me you thought it judicious to
make on the quiet,” he reminded me with a chuckle.</p>
<p>I sat silent; if the truth must be told, I was rather
abashed. On reflection—and on a reflection
prompted by Monkey Valdez!—what I had been<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</SPAN></span>
proposing to do seemed not quite the square thing.
Anyhow, a doubtful case; it is a good working rule
not to do things that you would not like to be found
out in.</p>
<p>“Then I suppose I oughtn’t to have come to see
you either?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t matter so much. Nina has no animosity
against me.” His eyes twinkled. “Still,
don’t mention it, there’s a good fellow. You see,
she’d question you, and I am rather down on my
luck. Lucinda and I both are. I daresay you’ll
understand that we shouldn’t care for that to get
round through Nina to Waldo?”</p>
<p>That feeling seemed natural and intelligible
enough. The contrast between splendor and—well—something
like squalor—in view of the past they
would hardly wish Lady Dundrannan and her husband
to be in a position to draw it.</p>
<p>“Oh, well, what’s done’s done; but you and I had
perhaps better not meet any more just for the
present.”</p>
<p>“I’ve roused your scruples?” he laughed. “I, the
moralist! Just as you like, old fellow. I’m glad
you happened to hit on a lucky night—hope you’ve
enjoyed the dinner?”</p>
<p>“Immensely, thanks. But I’d better be getting
back now, I think.”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s about time I got to business.” He
jerked his thumb in the direction of the Casino.
“Let me pay, and we’ll be off.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>In another five minutes we should have parted
company, and my indiscretion in visiting Arsenio
Valdez from Villa San Carlo would have had no
consequences. But things were not fated to end that
way. While my host was paying the bill—he put
down very openly, perhaps with some slight flourish,
a note for five hundred francs—I felt a hand laid on
my shoulder. I looked up, and saw Godfrey Frost.</p>
<p>“Ah!” said he, with a laugh, “you’re not the only
truant! I got a little bored myself, and thought I’d
run over here and have a flutter. We’ll go back
together, shall we? May I sit down at your table?
I’m late, but they say they can give me something
cold.”</p>
<p>Arsenio’s eyes were upon me; with his infernal
quickness the fellow must have detected an embarrassment
on my face; his own puckered into a
malicious smile. He settled back into the chair
which he had been about to vacate—and waited.</p>
<p>What could I do? With fate and Monkey Valdez
both against me? He divined that for some
reason I did not want to introduce him. Therefore
I must be made to! Godfrey also waited—quite
innocently, of course, just expecting the proper, the
obvious thing. I had to do it; but, with a faint hope
that they might not identify one another, I said
merely, “Sit down, of course. Mr. Frost—my
friend, Mr. Valdez.”</p>
<p>The Monkey twisted his face; I believe that he
was really vexed. (Had not Lucinda said that he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</SPAN></span>
had taken against all things English?) “I’m not
<i>Mr.</i> Valdez, Julius. I’m Monsieur Valdez, if you
like, or, more properly, Don Arsenio Valdez.”</p>
<p>“Delighted to meet you, Don Arsenio,” said
young Frost, composedly taking his seat. “I think
I’ve heard of you from my cousin, Lady Dundrannan.”</p>
<p>“An old acquaintanceship,” said the Monkey.
“One of the many that, alas, the war interrupted!
I hope that your cousin is well?”</p>
<p>“First class, thank you,” answered Godfrey.
“Ah, here’s my cold chicken!”</p>
<p>With the arrival of the stranger Arsenio had assumed
his best manner, his most distinguished air;
he could do the high style very well when he chose,
and if his dress suit was a trifle shabby, there was
always the war to account for a trifle like that. He
was evidently bent on making a favorable impression.
The talk turned on the tables, where Godfrey
had been trying his luck with some success. But
Arsenio was no longer the crazy gambler with a
strange hallucination about Number 21; he was a
clear-sighted, cool-minded gentleman who, knowing
that the odds against him must tell in the end, still
from time to time risked a few louis for his pleasure.</p>
<p>“After all, it’s one of the best forms of relaxation
I know. Just enough excitement and not too much.”</p>
<p>“I never play for more than I can afford to lose,”
said Godfrey. “But I must confess that I get pretty
excited all the same.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“It can’t make much difference to you what you
lose,” I growled. This meeting, for which I felt
responsible, somehow put me out of temper. What
was the Monkey up to? He was so anxious to
make a good impression!</p>
<p>“It would be affectation to pretend not to know
that you can afford to treat the freaks of fortune
with composure,” he said to Godfrey with a smile.</p>
<p>Godfrey looked pleased. He was still fresh to
his position and his money; he enjoyed the prestige;
he liked to have the Frost greatness admired, just
as his cousin Nina did.</p>
<p>“When I played more than I do now,” Arsenio
pursued, “I used to play a system. I don’t really
believe in any of them, but I should like to show it to
you. It might interest you—though I’ve come
now to prefer a long shot—a bold gamble—win or
lose—and there’s an end of it! Still my old system
might——”</p>
<p>I got up. I had had enough of this—whatever
Arsenio’s game might be. “It’s time we were getting
back,” I said to Godfrey. “Have you your car
here?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and we’ll go. But look here, Don Arsenio,
I should like to hear about your system. If you’re
free, lunch with me here to-morrow, and afterwards
we’ll drop in and try it—in a small way, just for fun,
you know.”</p>
<p>“To-morrow? Yes, I shall be delighted. About
half-past twelve? Shall I see you, too, Julius?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“No; systems bore me to death,” I said gruffly.
“Besides, those Forrester people are coming to lunch
at the Villa to-morrow, Godfrey.”</p>
<p>“All the more reason for being out!” laughed
Godfrey. “We’ll meet, then, Don Arsenio,
whether this old chap comes or not. That’s
agreed?”</p>
<p>Arsenio assented. We left him outside the <i>café</i>,
waving his hand to us as the car started. At the
last moment he darted one of his mischievous
glances at me. At least, he was thoroughly enjoying
the situation; at most—well, at most he might be up
to almost anything. He had told us that he did not,
after all, feel like playing that night, since we had to
leave him; he would go straight home, he said.
That probably meant that he was saving up his
money for something!</p>
<p>Godfrey was silent on the way home, and did not
refer to Arsenio till we found ourselves in the
smoking room at the Villa: we had it to ourselves;
the others had gone to bed.</p>
<p>“I was interested to meet that fellow,” he then
remarked. “Where did you run into him?”</p>
<p>I told him of my visit. “For the sake of old times
I just wanted to see how he was getting on,” I added
apologetically. “But I doubt whether I did right,
and I don’t mean to see any more of him at present.”</p>
<p>“Why do you doubt whether you did right?”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m Nina’s guest just now; frankly, I
don’t think she’d like it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“There’s no reason to tell, is there?”</p>
<p>“As a matter of fact, I didn’t mean to tell her.
But you turned up!”</p>
<p>He laughed. “Oh, I won’t tell her either.
We’ll keep it dark, old fellow.”</p>
<p>“But you’ve arranged to meet him at lunch again
to-morrow.”</p>
<p>“Nina will be lunching here—with the Forresters,
so that will be all right, though it’s a doubtful
point whether affording us bed and board gives Nina
a right of control over the company we keep outside
the house.”</p>
<p>“I just had a feeling——”</p>
<p>“Yes. Well, perhaps you’re right.” He was
standing before the fire, smoking a cigar; he seemed
to ponder the little question of morals, or etiquette,
for a moment. Then he smiled. “So that’s the
dashing lover who cut out poor Waldo and ran
away with the famous Lucinda, is it? But where’s
the lady, Julius?”</p>
<p>“I haven’t any idea. She wasn’t at the place
where I found him to-day. Why do you want to
know where she is?”</p>
<p>I suppose that my tone was irritable. He raised
his brows, smiling still. “Don’t you think that a
little curiosity is natural? She is, after all, an important
figure in the family history. And she is,
so far as I’m aware, the only woman who’s ever got
the better of Nina. I should like to see her.” He
paused a moment, his lips set in the firm and resolute<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</SPAN></span>
smile with which I was familiar on Lady Dundrannan’s
lips—the Frost smile. “Yes, I should
certainly like to see her. And I’m not really much
interested in roulette systems. That for your information,
Julius!”</p>
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