Like most successful handlers of other people’s money, Blanc was a reader of man’s emotions. He knew his customers, and he knew that many of them were the scum of the earth, and he guarded carefully against allowing them too much freedom. He may have feared his life, or he may have feared capture for ransom, like missionaries and political suspects, and for this reason M. Blanc went about with never a penny on his person. He carried a blank cheque, however, printed, it is said, in red ink--for the old-stager at Monte Carlo still likes to regale the _nouveau_ with the tale--and good for several hundred thousand francs. The “man in the box” had very explicit instructions never to pay this cheque, should it turn up, unless he had previously received a telegram ordering him to do so. It will not take the sagacity of a Dupin or a Sherlock Holmes to evolve the reason for this, but it was a clever idea nevertheless. In case any of the curious really want to know how the game is played, the following facts are given: Blanc’s organization was well-nigh a perfect one, and, though its founder is now dead, it remains the same. The staff is a large one. At the head is an administrator-general, who has three collaborators, also known as administrators, one who conducts the affairs of the outside world, has charge of the supplies for the establishment, and the arrangements for the pigeon-shooting, the automobile boat-races, the care of the gardens, etc.; another holds the purse-strings and is a sort of head cashier; and the third has charge of the tables and their personnel. [Illustration: _The GAME_] Under this last is a director of the games, three assistant directors, four _chefs-de-table_,--which sounds as though they might be cooks, but who in reality are something far different; then come five inspectors, and fourteen chiefs of the roulette-tables, and all of them are a pretty high-salaried class of employee, as such things go in Europe. The chiefs of the roulette-tables draw seven and five hundred francs a month, for very short hours and easy work. There are two classes of dealers,--croupiers at the roulette-tables and _tailleurs_ at “_trente-et-quarante_,” each of whom receive from four to six hundred francs a month, according to their experience. The apprentices, who some day expect to become croupiers,--those who do the raking in,--receive two hundred francs a month. All, however, are under an espionage in all their sleeping, waking, and working moments as keen and observant as if they were bank messengers in Wall Street.