She knew that
it was absurd that she should feel this, for the same cards would
certainly have been dealt to whoever had happened to take them from the
_croupier_. But still, superstition is part of the virus which fills the
gambler's blood, and she had certainly won a considerable part of the
money Count Paul had lost to-night.
"May I see you back to your house?" asked Chester of Madame Wachner.
"Oh no, Monsieur, I must go hack to the Casino and look after Fritz!
'E is a child--quite a child as regards money." Madame Wachner sighed
heavily. "No, no, you go 'ome to bed in the Pension Malfait."
"I shouldn't think of doing such a thing!" he said kindly. "I will come
back with you to the Casino, and together we will persuade Monsieur
Wachner to go home. He has had time to make or lose a good deal of money
in the last few minutes."
"Yes, indeed he 'as--" again Madame Wachner sighed, and Chester's heart
went out to her. She was a really nice old woman--clever and intelligent,
as well as cheerful and brave. It seemed a great pity that she should be
cursed with a gambler for a husband.
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