The croupier handed Reggie three thousand-franc notes and quite a handful of gold. Then the lucky player moved his original stake on to the little square marked 36. Again he won--and again and again. The three thousand-franc notes he had just received he placed upon the middle dozen. The number 18 turned up, and the croupier handed him six thousand francs--the maximum paid by the bank on a single coup. Every eye around that table watched him narrowly. People began to follow his play, placing their money beside his, and time after time he won, making only a few unimportant losses. We stood watching him in silent wonder. The luck of the man with whom I had been flirting was simply marvellous. Sometimes he distributed his stakes on the color, the dozen, and the “pair,” and in that manner often won in several places at the same coup. The eager, grabbing crowd surged around the table, and the excitement quickly rose to fever-heat. The assault Reggie was making upon the bank was certainly a formidable one. His inner pockets bulged with the handfuls of notes he crammed there, while the outer pockets of his jacket were heavy with golden louis. Ulrica stood behind him, but uttered no word. To speak to a person while playing is believed by the gambler to bring evil fortune. When he could cram no more notes into his pockets he passed them to Ulrica, who held them in an overflow bundle in her hand. He tossed a thousand francs on the red, but lost, together with the dozens of others who had followed his play. He played again with no better result. A third time he played on the red, which had not been up for nine times in succession, a most unusual run. Black won. “I’ve finished,” he said, turning to us with a laugh. “Let’s get out of this; my luck has changed.” “Marvellous!” cried Ulrica. “Why, you must have won quite a fortune.” “We’ll go across to the Café and count it,” he said, and we all walked out together. Then while sitting at one of the tables we assisted him to count the piles of gold and notes. He had, we found, won over sixty thousand francs. At his invitation we went along to Gast’s, the jewellers in the Galerie, and he there purchased for each of us a ring as a little souvenir of the day. Afterwards we turned into Ciro’s and dined. Yes, life at Monte Carlo is absolutely intoxicating. Now, however, that I sit here reflecting on the events of that day when I first entered the Sign of the Seven Sins, I find that even though the display of such wealth as one sees upon the tables is dazzling, yet my first impression of it has never been altered. I hated Monte Carlo from the first--I hate it now. The talk at dinner was, of course, the argot of the Rooms. At Monte Carlo the conversation is always of play. If you meet an acquaintance, you do not ask after her health, but of her luck and her latest successes.