Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo | Page 8

interchange of views might be agreeable? Supposing I were to offer
my services as an intermediary? You would like to bring about better
relations with my country, would you not, Sir Henry? You are
admittedly a statesman and an influential man in your Party. I am only
a banker, it is true, but I have been taken into the confidence of those
who direct the destinies of my country."
Hunterleys' face reflected none of the other's earnestness. He seemed,
indeed, a little bored, and he answered almost irritably.
"I am much obliged to you," he said, "but Monte Carlo seems scarcely
the place to me for political discussions, added to which I have no
official position. I could not receive or exchange confidences. While
my Party is out of power, there is nothing left for us but to mark time. I
dare say you mean well, Mr. Draconmeyer," he added, rising to his feet,
"but I am here to forget politics altogether, if I can. If you will excuse
me, I think I will look in at the baccarat rooms."
He was on the point of departure when through the open doorway
which communicated with the baccarat rooms beyond came a man of
sufficiently arresting personality, a man remarkably fat, with
close-cropped grey hair which stuck up like bristles all over his head; a
huge, clean-shaven face which seemed concentrated at that moment in
one tremendous smile of overwhelming good-humour. He held by the
hand a little French girl, dark, small, looking almost like a marionette
in her slim tailor-made costume. He recognised Draconmeyer with
enthusiasm.
"My friend Draconmeyer," he exclaimed, in stentorian tones, "baccarat
is the greatest game in the world. I have won--I, who know nothing

about it, have won a hundred louis. It is amazing! There is no place like
this in the world. We are here to drink a bottle of wine together,
mademoiselle and I, mademoiselle who was at once my instructress
and my mascot. Afterwards we go to the jeweler's. Why not? A fair
division of the spoils--fifty louis for myself, fifty louis for a bracelet for
mademoiselle. And then--"
He broke off suddenly. His gesture was almost dramatic.
"I am forgotten!" he cried, holding out his hand to
Hunterleys,--"forgotten already! Sir Henry, there are many who forget
me as a humble Minister of my master, but there are few who forget me
physically. I am Selingman. We met in Berlin, six years ago. You came
with your great Foreign Secretary."
"I remember you perfectly," Hunterleys assured him, as he submitted to
the newcomer's vigorous handshake. "We shall meet again, I trust."
Selingman thrust his arm through Hunterleys' as though to prevent his
departure.
"You shall not run away!" he declared. "I introduce both of you--Mr.
Draconmeyer, the great Anglo-German banker; Sir Henry Hunterleys,
the English politician--to Mademoiselle Estelle Nipon, of the Opera
House. Now we all know one another. We shall be good friends. We
will share that bottle of champagne."
"One bottle between four!" mademoiselle laughed, poutingly. "And I
am parched! I have taught monsieur baccarat. I am exhausted."
"A magnum!" Selingman ordered in a voice of thunder, shaking his fist
at the startled waiter. "We seat ourselves here at the round table.
Mademoiselle, we will drink champagne together until the eyes of all
of us sparkle as yours do. We will drink champagne until we do not
believe that there is such a thing as losing at games or in life. We will
drink champagne until we all four believe that we have been brought up
together, that we are bosom friends of a lifetime. See, this is how we
will place ourselves. Mademoiselle, if the others make love to you, take

no notice. It is I who have put fifty louis in one pocket for that bracelet.
Do not trust Sir Henry there; he has a reputation."
As usual, the overpowering Selingman had his way. Neither
Draconmeyer nor Hunterleys attempted to escape. They took their
places at the table. They drank champagne and they listened to
Selingman. All the time he talked, save when mademoiselle interrupted
him. Seated upon a chair which seemed absurdly inadequate, his great
stomach with its vast expanse of white waistcoat in full view, his short
legs doubled up beneath him, he beamed upon them all with a smile
which never failed.
"It is a wonderful place," he declared, as he lifted his glass for the fifth
time. "We will drink to it, this Monte Carlo. It is here that they come
from all quarters of the world--the ladies who charm away our hearts,"
he added, bowing to mademoiselle, "the financiers whose word can
shake the money-markets of the world, and the politicians who unbend,
perhaps, just a little in the sunshine here, however cold and inflexible
they