She jogged lightly over to Kit. He turned around as he sensed her arrival from the corner of his eye. He smiled as he saw her. Her outfit had caused many on this side of the room to stop what they were doing and gaze at her. Mary was too excited to concern herself with the attention of others but woman enough to be gratified by the reaction in Kit’s eyes before the realisation dawned on him that she had delivered the goods.

  Mary handed over the sheaf of papers to Kit. She extracted one and pointed to a handwritten headline.

  ‘Good lord,’ said Kit.

  ‘That’s not all,’ replied Mary. ‘Look at this one.’ At this she took the folder from Kit while he read the first sheet. She handed him another sheet which contained explosive information about another member of the Bluebeard Club. Before Kit could take this in, Mary had given him another.

  ‘I have to hand it to Dupin, he was good. We must find Briant and Saimbron.’

  At this point both Alastair and Ella-Mae had joined Kit having also spied Mary’s arrival. Kit handed Alastair the first sheet.

  ‘Oh,’ said Alastair. Then he smiled and shrugged. ‘Of course, I knew. You can always tell.’

  He ignored the sceptical looks from Kit and Mary. He was not beyond a bit of shamelessness when the occasion demanded. And that occasion was now. The matter was urgent tough. Kit made for a policeman who Saimbron had brought along to stand guard at the exit of the Salle Europe.

  Gardien Jacques Dubois had jumped at the chance of a bit of plain-clothes work. His talents were, at long last, being realised. Twenty years in uniform had led the policeman to believe that nepotism, jealousy, and downright stupidity would deny him the opportunity that his intelligence and perspicacity so merited. When Saimbron had entered the mess room to look for help on this evening he had chosen Dubois. The fact that he was the only man in the room at the time was not a something that the policeman gave a second’s thought to. He was the chosen one.

  He saw the aristocratic Englishman approach him with his startingly attractive wife, for an Englishwoman, that is.

  ‘Where can I find Captain Briant and Inspector Saimbron?’

  The question became redundant moments later when Kit literally ran into the diminutive figure of Charpentier. Kit was on the point of apologising as Englishmen tend to do in almost any situation, especially those where none is either required or expected, when the two men realised who the other was and, just as quickly, why this was a problem.

  -

  Agatha saw the arrival of Charpentier, and it threw her composure sufficiently to fluff the next hand. Luckily the bank’s losses were minimal. She was desperate to know what the two men were saying to one another. Charpentier looked unhappy, but then he always did. A cough nearby woke her from the reverie, and she realised that the table was waiting for her to deal the next hand. She smiled, shrugged, and began to feed cards from the shoe.

  To Agatha’s right was Mme Russo. She was playing conservatively which Agatha expected. Her pile of chips was stake money and no more. Of more interest was the number of chips laid out alongside the two columns. The total stood at eight even though they were barely a quarter of the way through the shoe. This suggested the arrival of her husband was likely but not imminent.

  The game played out and was noteworthy insofar as Mme Russo added another chip to those laid out. They were at nine now. But just at that moment, everyone was distracted by a commotion at a table nearby.

  -

  ‘You idiot,’ exploded Fournier at his wife.

  The words would have been shocking enough under any circumstance in the gaming room of the casino. It was more so because no one had any idea that they were husband and wife. A few of the men tutted-tutted. Elsa Fournier looked crestfallen after another heavy loss. Her husband glared at her as a number of the patrons commiserated with the visibly upset Mme Fournier.

  Watching was Simon Levy, who had quickly understood that Mary was out of reach. He had returned to the table where Natalie was sitting and had made another sally in her direction. She didn’t say much but she smiled rather encouragingly at him. It was at this point Fournier had made his inappropriate comment. It occurred to Levy that there was much to gain in his quest by being seen to defend a defenceless woman. He turned to the angry Fournier and said coldly, ‘I think, sir, you should apologise.’

  ‘This is my wife,’ snarled Fournier,

  ‘You are a bully, sir. A pathetic bully. I think you should leave before the casino asks you to.’

  ‘I think, sir, that you should mind your own business,’ hissed Fournier and he turned away from the Austrian.

  Levy turned to Natalie, hoping that his efforts had not gone unnoticed. The smile of admiration on her face was its own reward. Things were looking up, thought Levy. She rose from the table, glanced shyly at Levy, and went to another table which was attracting a crowd.

  -

  ‘How dare you go against my wishes,’ hissed Charpentier at Kit.

  Kit smiled and shrugged at the examining magistrate. A point that seemed to have been missed by the little Frenchman was that Kit was perfectly entitled to be there. He was on holiday, after all. An unusual one by any standard but a holiday all the same.

  Rather than engage Charpentier he merely saluted him and walked away followed by Mary, Alastair, and Ella-Mae. Alastair added further insult to Charpentier by tipping his hat to him and chuckling as he passed. Charpentier spun around and realised he was utterly powerless to do anything. There was no doubt in his mind that he had been duped by the Englishman and his friends. This angered him immensely. There was only one thing that he could do.

  Find Briant and Saimbron.

  He had no power to tell the meddling aristocrat what he could or couldn’t do but this was not the case with the policemen. He would make it his mission to give them a piece of his mind and that piece was anger. No one could make a fool of him and expect there to be no consequences.

  Kit reached the exit of the room just as Briant entered with Saimbron. He held up the file that Mary had found.

  ‘You need to read this,’ said Kit.

  Briant read Kit’s face in the blink of an eye. He took the file brandished by Kit and retired to the side of the room with Saimbron and Boucher to review the contents of Dupin’s report.

  Meanwhile, Kit noticed that Agatha was in the middle of a growing crowd of patrons. It took a moment to understand why. Russo had just taken the place of his wife at the table. Standing nearby were the two Redons. Just behind them was Rufus Watts.

  Charpentier had noted the arrival of the policemen. It did not escape his attention that they were engrossed in reading a document. This gave him a pause for thought as he considered his options. His first instinct had been to march over to Saimbron and demand an explanation. It was then that he saw Kit staring towards the middle of the gaming floor. He followed the direction of Kit’s gaze and arrived at the sight of Agatha, dealing cards at a table with a large crowd surrounding it.

  What on earth was going on? Curiosity got the better of him. He stepped towards the table to investigate further.

  31

  There was much to attract the attention of the crowd that had assembled around the vingt et un table that Charpentier was stalking towards. The presence of the Italian was enough to raise excitement levels. The amount of money he had won was close to fifty thousand pounds and he was proudly displaying the chips in eight neat piles.

  Causing just as much interest, albeit unintentionally, was Natalie, who had just sat down. She continued to attract admirers of all ages. They were assembled around her once more like devoted followers of a female deity.

  Yves Fournier joined the table, having escaped the censure resulting from his behaviour a minute or two previously. It was only when he sat down that he realised he was on the same table as Russo. A few angry women had followed him and were making their feelings known through clearly audible conversations about the decline of good manners. No one was in any doubt as to whom this exchange of views was directed. Russo certainly wasn’t and he glared at the Frenchman for bringing such unwanted attention to himself, the table, and their activities.

  This was enough for the Fournier. He stood up abruptly from the table and left it moments after sitting down. The crowd parted for him, and he strode over towards Elsa Fournier who was being consoled by Betty and another woman.

  Charpentier’s eyes were fixed, however, on the other reason why the table had become the apex of attention in the room. Agatha was the dealer. She noted the arrival of Charpentier by raising her eyebrows and smiling. If anything was designed to set a seal on the growing paranoia of the examining magistrate, it was this. However, once more, he was powerless to act. This was doubly apparent as his attention was taken by the size of the winnings in front of one of the patrons. He glanced from it then back to Agatha.

  ‘This is what the prince feared,’ said a voice beside Charpentier. He turned to find Kit Aston and then Mary standing beside him.

  ‘You deliberately ignored my instructions,’ snarled Charpentier. A rage burned within like an inferno. He needed someone to shout at. Twirling round he returned his gaze to the three policemen engrossed in reading sheaves of paper arrayed in their laps. Ignoring Kit, he headed towards them.

  Which is a pity because matters were reaching a head on the table he’d just left. There were just three players in addition to Agatha: Russo, Natalie and Simon Levy who decided to enjoy a better view of the young Frenchwoman from the vantage point of the seat beside her. Natalie smiled at him as he sat alongside her.

  Agatha dealt out the cards from the shoe. To a man and woman, everyone leaned in. From Kit’s vantage point, it was clear there were not many hands left in this shoe. Agatha dealt herself a six. A five went to Natalie, a king to Levy and a four to Russo. Kit suspected this would put him off making any big bids.

  As the game played out, Kit saw Alastair appear. He took a seat beside Russo, across from Natalie and Levy. There was low murmur around the table as the hand petered out with everyone losing out to Agatha’s three card eighteen. Alastair chuckled at the result and pointed out to Russo, ‘Not much in there for you, old friend.’

  Russo tried to ignore him, but Alastair kept up a commentary on the proceedings.

  ‘An eight for me. Very good. A bit of a chance here. I don’t fancy your six much,’ said Alastair. Nor did Russo, suspected Kit.

  The hand played out with both Alastair and Natalie winning. The next hand followed swiftly. Agatha was not hanging around. Mary gripped Kit’s hand when she saw Russo given a King of hearts, face up. Kit looked at her and raised his eyebrows. Moments later, Russo turned over his other card. It was a King of spades. He split them. Agatha threw two more cards face down.

  Russo glanced swiftly at the cards and then placed the equivalent of thirty thousand pounds worth of chips on one of the hands. The watching patrons gasped at the amount being wagered.

  Agatha was showing a six. Her heart was beating like a drunk drummer in a Parisian jazz club. She glanced at the face down card. It was an Ace of clubs. This meant she might have either a seventeen or seven depending on how she deployed the ace. Both Natalie and Levy were sticking with two cards. Attention turned to Alastair. He tapped the table.

  A ten of hearts. He chuckled and shrugged.

  ‘Oh well.’

  This left Russo. He tapped the table and Agatha dealt him a seven of clubs. This was added to the hand with the low wager. Agatha held her breath now. She wasn’t the only one. The rest of the watching audience held their breath too. Russo put his hand over the other two cards. No more cards. All attention turned towards Agatha. Mary’s grip on Kit’s hand tightened. Agatha’s hand reached down slowly to the shoe.

  -

  With all the attention in the room centred on the vingt et un table, only Betty saw Fournier striding towards them with murder in his eyes. Elsa Fournier looked up fearfully and shrank away from him. Betty stepped in between Fournier and his wife.

  ‘What do you think you are doing, sir?’ snarled Betty in a manner that indicated that she was a woman who meant business. ‘You leave this poor woman alone, you bully.’

  Betty backed this up by putting her hand out which stopped the big Frenchman in his tracks. He hadn’t been expecting this. His normal form would have been to face down such a woman. They always gave in. Something in him correctly guessed that this may not be the case with the Englishwoman facing him. She was barely five feet tall. Despite her height he would have put her at middleweight. There was a pugnaciousness to her eyes that suggested that if things got physical, she would give as good as she got.

  Betty felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Mme Fournier. She shook her head. It was the look of submission that Fournier knew so well, that once had attracted him but was now so repugnant.

  ‘Out of my way, madame,’ demanded Fournier.

  The look on Elsa Fournier’s face was neither fear nor submission. It was acceptance. Had it been anything else Betty would not have relented. Betty had no choice but to give way. She watched helplessly as Fournier grabbed the hand of his wife. Without a backward look, she was led away towards the exit of the gaming room. Anger burned within Betty. There had to be something she could do. She looked around the room and saw the policemen sitting at the other side of the room. She started out towards them. Just then she saw a small man wearing a pince-nez approach them. He didn’t sound very happy.

  Betty turned away from the policemen and headed towards Kit who was standing with Mary at Agatha’s table.

  -

  Boucher was the first to see the little examining magistrate approach them. He nudged Briant who glanced up from the document that had transfixed him for the last few minutes. He smiled up at Charpentier. This was always meant to anger Charpentier. To be fair, it did.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Charpentier. A wild frenzy of frustration brought on by alcohol, by the behaviour of his wife and by the flagrant disregard for his orders by all and sundry was frying his blood. He shouted at the sitting policeman, ‘How dare you ignore my instructions, Saimbron. Saimbron? Aren’t you listening to me?’

  Saimbron hadn’t looked up yet and continued to read the paper on his lap. He held his hand up. This was maddening enough but then Saimbron slowly extended his index finger. Moments later, he wagged it.

  Vesuvius erupted.

  However, the sound of Charpentier’s passionate denunciation of the policeman was drowned out by a roar emanating from the table in the middle of the room.

  -

  An odd calm descended on Agatha. Her heart which had been racing madly resumed its more genteel rhythm. She fixed Russo a steely stare. The Italian’s face was like an erupting geyser. Beads of sweat ran down his face. One hand was tapping the table. His other hand was at the back of his head. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar. Agatha slowly dragged the card from the shoe. She lifted it up and glanced at it. Then she threw it down.

  A Queen of spades.

  Russo looked at her hopefully. Agatha shook her head. She stood at seventeen now, but Russo could only guess this was the case. He glanced down again at his hidden card for the thirtieth time in the space of the last few seconds. It was a Jack of hearts. He was sitting on twenty. He suspected the dealer knew this and was going for bust.

  Russo felt his wife’s hand on his shoulder. Across the table, Philippe and Josephine Redon were staring hungrily at the chips on the table. The light of expectation shone from their eyes. But a shadow passed over the Italian’s just for a moment. A dark, worrying thought that would simply not go away. Had he been too greedy? The cards were surely against the bank. They were sitting on a few million francs. All this old woman had to do was turn her cards over and admit defeat. He watched Agatha slowly move her hand down towards the shoe. All around the table was silent but there seemed to be a commotion going on behind them. Russo closed his mind to the noise. All he could hear was the sound of his heart beating.

  Agatha made a show of rolling the card along the green table as slowly as possible. She glanced at Alastair. Her brother was biting on a panetela cigar holding some matches. He nodded to his sister and raised his eyebrows.

  Kit didn’t know whether to laugh or faint. The tension was unbearable as was the aching in his hand from Mary’s grip. She was feeling it too, but less painfully perhaps than her husband at that moment. Agatha picked the card up and looked at it.

  A Jack of diamonds. Her hand was a bust.

  The sound of silence was broken by Alastair striking a match loudly. A flame erupted and died on his cigar.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Alastair unapologetically.

  Agatha threw down a card onto the table.

  The card she threw down was a four of hearts. She turned over her other three cards. They added up to twenty-one.

  The crowd erupted in a roar. Giuseppe Russo stared at his two cards. They lay like poisoned fish thrown up by the sea. He put his head in his hands. Mme Russo fainted.

  Kit had no time to celebrate. Betty grabbed him by the arm. She shouted into his ear.

  ‘Fournier has dragged his wife away. They’ve left the room.’

  Kit’s eyes widened. He turned to the exit, but no one was there. Dubois had abandoned his post and strolled over to see what was happening on Agatha’s table. Kit turned to where Briant and Saimbron were sitting. Charpentier was standing over them reading the document that Mary had found earlier. However, the commotion had distracted Briant. He saw Kit gesticulating to him. He flew out of his seat, accompanied by Boucher. He was with Kit and Mary within seconds.

  ‘Arrest Russo and Redon,’ said Kit. From the corner of his eye, he saw two policemen enter the room.

  ‘I know,’ said Briant. ‘Where are the Fourniers?’

  ‘They’ve left. Two minutes ago.’

  Briant’s reply was lost as suddenly screams erupted from the other side of the vingt et un table.

 

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