The Marriage Trap Read Online Free PDF Page B

a face or two, though she couldn't put names to them. They were staying at the same hotel as she. She'd bet her last farthing that their wives and daughters didn't know where they were.
    When she entered the cardroom, she allowed her gaze to drift. She'd expected something better than this dingy room with its haze of tobacco smoke. There were other ladies present, but none as elegant as Madame Aurora. All the same, they had their own kind of allure. Their attractions were laid out like sweets in a confectioner's shop. They were not gamblers. They were demireps, or “ladies of easy virtue,” as Lady Sedgewick called them. What they were interested in were the men who won the largest sums of money.
    Her gaze sharpened and became more searching. It did not take her long to discover who among the patrons were employed by the house. There were the puffs who acted as decoys, the flashers, the ushers, the dunners, and waiters whose only aim was to make sure that the gambler and his money were soon parted.
    Her uncle had taught her well.
    A director came to meet them, well dressed in a black coat and trousers, all smiles because, she supposed, he thought she and Milton were pigeons ripe for plucking.
    “Monsieur,”
he said,
“que voudriez-vous jouer?”
    Milton replied in broken French, as they'd rehearsed beforehand,
“Je ne jouer pas. Mon . . . ma soeur
. . . my sister is the gambler.”
    The director's eyes slowly measured her, then gleamed in appreciation. His experienced eye would have summed her up as a lady with money to burn. To reinforce that impression, she opened her pochette so that he could see the banknotes. “I have five thousand francs here if you care to count it,” she said. “And my brother has a letter of credit from our bank in London.”
    She had the five thousand francs, but not the letter of credit. It was a small deception. If it ever came down to it and she lost her nest egg, she would quit the table. It had never happened yet.
    The director smiled and nodded. “What is your pleasure, madame?”
    “Cribbage,” she said at once. “I'm told I'm very good at it.” She looked up at Milton, who nodded in confirmation of her boast. There was nothing a director liked better than an eager gambler. Eager gamblers made easy pickings.
    “Then cribbage it is,” he said.
    Still beaming, he motioned her to a table for two. The operator, the man who would play against her, was already seated. As she took her place, she looked up at Milton. He knew what to do. He was to keep watch behind her so that no one could look over her shoulder and see her cards.
    After the cribbage board and pegs were set out, the director, who would supervise the play, handed the operator a fresh pack of cards. Everything was graciously done and civilized. No one would expect such kindly-looking gentlemen to resort to cheating, unless they had an Uncle Ted to put them wise to the ways of the world.
    As the operator began to deal the cards, two flashers decked out as patrons began a loud conversation on the actress who had been done to death on New Year's Day at the theater on the west side of the building. That was only four days ago. Ellie had read the story in the newspapers and had heard it talked about in hushed tones among her employers' friends, but knowing that this was a ploy to distract her, she kept her eyes fixed on the operator's fingers. When his fingers slowed, she looked up.
    He wasn't smiling quite as broadly as before. She had to watch her step. She mustn't appear too confident. Gamblers who betrayed that they knew how to use the system to their advantage were soon hustled out the door.
    “That poor woman,” she said, suppressing a shudder. “Have they found who did it?”
    “
Non,
madame, not yet, but they will. They think it was her young lover and that he is hiding out in the Palais Royal.”
    Since she knew that he spoke only to break her concentration, she played her part. Shuddering again, she said, “I