There are, of course, a few square gambling houses in the United States. Somehow I had the impression The Green Door wasn’t one of those few.
I watched for a while, then went over and bought a twenty-dollar stack of chips. The man who presided over the wheel flashed a diamond as his well-manicured, skillful fingers slid the chips out to me in a careless ges- ture. His entire attitude seemed to say that the place was broad-minded, and if a piker wanted to get a stack of chips for twenty dollars, it was quite all right with the management. They were running a democratic house.
I bet five dollars on red and the wheel came black. I doubled my bet on red. Red came up and paid off. I put two dollars on number three and number thirty came up. I put another two dollars on number three and number seven came up.
Again I put two dollars on number three and number three came up. The man in charge of the game paid off and honored me with a quizzical glance. Some of the other people began to size me up.
I left two dollars on the three and played two dollars on the twenty.
The twenty came up, and the man in charge once more slid out a stack of chips.
He also paused to adjust his tie.
I put two dollars on the five.
There was a nervous feminine laugh. I saw the flash of bare shoulder as an arm reached across so that the flesh all but brushed my cheek. A young vision said, “I hope you don’t think I’m forward, but with luck like yours I’m not going to pass up a chance to ride along.”
“Not at all,” I said politely, and looked her over.
She was blond, with a cute, upturned nose, a rosebud mouth, and a figure which could well have won prizes in any bathing-beauty parade.
She smiled up at me with just the right amount of cordiality and then almost instantly became somewhat coldly aloof, as though suddenly realizing that, after all, she didn’t know who I was and our acquaintanceship had stemmed from the fact that we happened to be standing at a roulette table together.
The wheel spun, the ball clattered, and number seven came up.
I put two dollars on number ten. The blonde put two dollars right on top of mine.
The wheel spun and we lost.
I put two dollars on number twenty-seven. The blonde hesitated a moment, then put a dollar bet on the top of mine.
The wheel spun, the ball clattered, and number twelve came.
I heard the blonde sigh. I put two dollars on number seven and a dollar on number three.
The blonde hesitated, then, as though trying bravely to conceal the fact that this was her last dollar, she put a chip on number three, right on top of mine.
The ball spun around and popped into a pocket. The blonde saw it before I did. She gave a startled squeal and grabbed my arm in an ecstasy of enthusiasm that she couldn’t quite control.
“We’ve done it!” she cried. “We’ve done it! We’ve won!”
The man at the wheel gave her a fatherly glance of dignified, quiet amusement and paid us off.
We bet together three or four times more, then we won again.
I was beginning to get a fair-sized pile of chips.
The blonde nervously took a cigarette case from a black bag and tapped the cigarette on the side of the polished silver. She inserted it in her mouth, and I snapped a match into flame.
She leaned forward for the light.
I could see the long curling eyelashes, the mischievous glint of saucy hazel eyes, as she looked me over with demure interest.
“Thank you,” she said, and then after a moment added, “for everything.”
“Don’t thank me,” I told her.
“Lots of people wouldn’t like to have me — well, share their luck.” Her glance was of the type to inspire a man to say that it would be a pleasure to share everything he had with her on a permanent basis.
I merely smiled.
Her hand rested on mine for an instant as she moved her pile of chips an inch or two along the side of the table.
Abruptly she said, “It means so much, so very, very much to me, and I was down to my last dollar.”
We lost three or four more bets, then I put five dollars on a number. She suddenly felt lucky and put ten dollars above my five.
The number paid off.
Her scream of delight was almost instantly suppressed as though she was afraid she might be put out, but she looked up at me and her eyes were dancing. Once more her hand was on my arm, the fingers digging in through the coat. “Oh,” she said, and then after a moment, “Oh!”
The man at the wheel paid off my bet, seemed to frown with annoyance as he paid off the blonde’s bet. It was a sizable bunch of chips.
She leaned against me. I could feel her tremble.
“I’ve got to go where I can sit down,” she said. “Please — Please, what can I do about my — about my chips?”
“Cash them in, if you wish,” the dealer said carelessly, “and then you can buy in again when you get ready to play.”
“Oh, I — Very well.”
Her weight was heavy against me as though her knees were getting ready to buckle.
“Please,” she said in a half-whisper, “can you help me over to a chair?”
I gave a quick glance at my stack of chips and at hers.
The man at the wheel caught my eye and nodded. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, with the gesture of one who disdains to consider money of any great importance.
I took the girl’s arm and helped her out to a table at the bar.
A waiter hovered over us solicitously as soon as we were seated.
“The occasion,” I said, “would seem to call for celebration. Would you care for champagne?”
“Oh, I’d love it. I have to have — something. Oh, it means so much! Would you — Could you—”
“Certainly,” I said, “if you wish. I’ll see about getting your money for you. Do you know how much you had coming?”
She shook her head.
“Under those circumstances, I’m afraid you’d better attend to the financial transaction yourself.”
“Oh, it’s quite all right. I know you’re on the up-and-up. I — I wouldn’t have had a thing if it hadn’t been for you, Mr.—”
“Lam,” I said.
“I’m Miss Marvin,” she said, smiling. “My friends call me Diane.”
“My name’s Donald.”
“Donald, I’m just too absolutely, completely flabbergasted to get up and walk into that room. My legs just seem to turn to water. I — Well, I just wish you could see my knees.”
“It’s an idea,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, making a little slap at me. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
One of the assistant managers bent gravely over the table. “Did you people wish to cash in your chips,” he asked, “or would you prefer to have them brought to you here in the bar? You can use them to pay for anything in the house.”
“Let’s hang on to them,” she said instantly. “Could you — Well, could they be brought out here?”
“But certainly.”
He bowed, vanished, and a moment later came back with a plastic container in which my chips had been placed, and a polished wooden rack in which the girl’s chips were stacked.
“We took the liberty of changing some of these chips,” he said, “so they wouldn’t be so bulky. The blue chips represent twenty dollars each.”
“Those blue chips — twenty dollars for each one?”
“That’s right.”
Her fingers caressed the edges of the gold-embossed chips. “Each one,” she said in an awed half-whisper, “twenty dollars.”
The waiter brought champagne, popped the cork, spilled ice out of the glasses and filled them to the brim.
We touched glasses.
“Here’s luck,” I said.
“Here’s to you,” she countered. “You’re my luck.”