His infallible system—His agreeable manners—A roulette player—Confidences—Revelations—In vein, and out of vein—The maturity of chances—Advice to players—Maxims—Influences—The gambler must be unmoved—Application of the system—A fortunate martingale—Mysterious meeting—Shorn of a beard—Ruin and misery—The talisman—Raymond is a Greek—Useful information.

In 1852, after a long series of performances, which I had been giving in Germany, I stopped at that charming little place, Spa, with the double intention of giving a few entertainments there, and also of getting a little rest after my fatiguing tour.

I put up at an hotel, the name of which has escaped me. It is very ungrateful of me, for it was an hotel where you received the greatest civility and attention, and the table was excellent, which is what one does not always meet with in one's travels.

The table d'hÔte was usually very gay, as the people composing it were the Élite of society, all in perfect health, coming there nominally to drink the waters, but in reality for amusement. My neighbour at table was an habituÉ of the house, who had been living there, it was said, for some months.

He was an old man, with a long white beard, which was so thick and bushy that it nearly covered his face. The only part visible was a pair of cheeks, the roseate hue of which might cause a sigh of envy in the heart of many a coquette. One might compare them to two rosy apples lying on a bed of snow.

M. Raymond, for such was the appellation of the gentleman in question, was one of the most intelligent and amusing companions it was possible to meet with.

In conversation, he possessed the rare art of drawing others out, that is to say, having himself something interesting to relate, which often was the case, he managed, by cleverly turning the conversation, to obtain from each of the party assembled, his quota towards the general gaiety. He was, in fact, the life and soul of our gastronomic rÉunions.

M. Raymond, who was sometimes called "Voisin Raymond," or simply "Mon Voisin," seemed to be well off. The extent of his fortune was unknown, but he must have had some means, as he was one of the most constant players at the roulette-table; and to play much at this game one must be rich, Roulette is not a winning game—this is one of its greatest faults.

At the foreign watering-places, the passion for play is not considered a vice—it is looked on as an amusement, rather comme il faut; my neighbour, therefore, notwithstanding his regular attendance at the gambling-table, was still supposed to be an honourable man and a gentleman.

M. Raymond had been present at some of my sÉances, and seemed to take particular delight in them. Often had he spoken to me in such terms, as proved his thorough knowledge of the art of jugglery in general, and about tricks with cards in particular. When we were alone, he even showed me with what facility he could make a false cut, change one card for another, &c., &c. I therefore looked on him as a very clever amateur in these manoeuvres.

Our having the same tastes, I may say the same passion, in common, contributed to add to our intimacy, and few days passed that we did not take long walks together in the neighbourhood. Our conversation turned, as may be supposed very frequently, on our favourite topic. We also spoke about "Roulette" and "Rouge-et-Noir," but on these subjects we seldom agreed, and my neighbour grew quite exasperated, when I said that I had a horror of gambling, and, that when I approached the table covered with green cloth, it seemed to me as if I were one of an assemblage of fools, or at least lunatics of the worst description.

"Fools and lunatics!" exclaimed M. Raymond; "you seem to be ignorant of the study necessary, of the strength of mind and talent required, to contend against bad luck. You are not aware that the art of turning lucky chances in your favour, is not a chimera, and that it requires great talent to be able to duly estimate the value of the chances."

One day, after a long discussion more than usually excited, M. Raymond, finding that he rather had the worst of the argument, thought to convince me by letting me a little into his confidence.

"Ah! Well, you say you have a horror of gambling, and will never play. Wait and see. I bet that in an hour you will be so wild about it, that I shall be obliged to restrain and guide you."

I made a gesture of denial.

"Pray listen to me;" added he; "only when you've heard what I have to tell, I must ask you to guard sacredly the secret I am about to confide to you.

"You probably share the generally received opinion, that I have a large fortune. I may say that I am rich, as my funds come from a source that is inexhaustible. At the same time, I do not mind confessing to you, that I have no other funds than my wits, or, in other words, my skill in play. I live by the profits I derive from the gambling-table. I could prove to you, that there is not a year that I do not make money at roulette, clearing at least twenty thousand francs (800l.). You naturally inquire how?—I am going to teach you.

"It has long been the custom to hold up to ridicule those, who, having little trust in fate, seek to make their fortunes by the aid of lucky combinations at play, more or less ingenious.

"Even if the result disappoint you day after day, ought you, therefore, to conclude that it is not to be obtained?

"I have every reason for believing the contrary, and, when you have heard what I have to say, you will agree with me on the subject.

"To make these explanations more intelligible, I ought, in the first place, to establish the following aphorism: 'That all games of chance present two kinds of chances perfectly distinct: those which belong to the player, and those which are inherent in the combinations of the game.'

"The chances in favour of the player are represented by two mysterious agents, known by the names of loss and gain, or perhaps by the more characteristic ones of good and ill-luck.

"The chances of the game are termed probabilities.

"A probability is the relation which exists, between the number of chances favourable to a result, and the sum total of possible chances.

"Some celebrated authors have written clever works on these same probabilities, but, in consequence of their profound depth and multiplicity, these calculations are of no earthly use to the player.

"Besides, all systems of probabilities may be advantageously replaced by the following theory:—

"If chance should happen to bring every possible combination of the game, there are, notwithstanding, certain limits, where it must cease.

"Such, for example, as the fact of a number coming up ten consecutive times at roulette.

"That might happen, certainly, but it has never yet occurred. We may therefore conclude, that:—

"In a game of hazard, the oftener a number comes up, the more certain it is that it will not come up the next coup.

"This is the groundwork of all the theories of probabilities, and is termed 'the maturity of chances.' "After what I have stated, it is evident, that, in order to succeed, a person must only continue to play, when he is fortunate at the commencement, and must also only risk his money, at the instant prescribed by the rules of the maturity of chances.

"Some sort of introduction was necessary, but I have made it as short as possible."

Here M. Raymond, wishing doubtless to give me time to reflect on what he had said, stopped short, pulled his pocket-handkerchief out of his pocket, blew his nose several times, and then continued:—

"My theory is embodied in the following precepts, under the title of

ADVICE TO PLAYERS.

"1st. In playing, give the preference to the game of roulette, as it gives you the chance of investing your money in several ways,E and also enables you to study at the same time various chances and maturities.

"2nd. A good player must be calm, and must keep his temper. A man who gives way to passion is sure to lose.

"If, as is said to be the case, gambling produces the most delightful sensations; as all happiness in this world has its reverse of pain and suffering, it is almost certain, that the anticipated pleasure of winning is balanced by many bitterly-deceived hopes.

"The man who likes gambling must take the risk of losing.

"3rd. A prudent player ought, before beginning, to observe, and obtain proof if possible, whether he is in a lucky vein or not.

"If there be any doubt about it, he must abstain from playing.

"4th. There are some whom ill-luck pursues incessantly. To these I would say: never play.

"5th. An experienced player ought always to avoid joining in partnership, with those unlucky people who always lose. Nothing is so contagious as ill-luck. Be careful never to place your money with that of unfortunate players. On the other hand, always place your money with those whom you see are lucky.

"6th. Accustom yourself to be one of the last to place your money, so that your play may not influence others who are also holding back.

"7th. Endeavour to choose for playing, the moment when you see there are most players; the coups are then less rapid, and one has more time to study them. "8th. Never think of playing, unless you have your brain quite clear. Let the voice of the croupier and the card on which you have marked the points, occupy your thoughts. Isolate yourself in the midst of the crowd.

"9th. Never try a chance until it is ripe, or has arrived at its maturity. This system will often oblige a novice to remain inactive; but practice will enable him to play every time, as he will know how to profit by all the chances attached to the combinations of the game.

"10th. If the calculations, founded upon your luck, or upon probabilities, are disappointed, cease playing at once, to try your luck again at a more favourable opportunity.

"Obstinacy in playing is ruin.

"11th. Never play for more than two hours; beyond that time, brain and fortune become weary of being kept too long on the rack.

"12th. To acquire the sort of impassibility I advocate, hide, in the recesses of your own heart, any and all emotions, which the fact of winning may produce, be the sum ever so considerable. Remember that your good luck ought never to make you rejoice too much, for, though Dame Fortune may shower her favours upon you, she as often takes her revenge on the imprudent whom success intoxicates."

I had paid the greatest attention to the explanation afforded me by M. Raymond. His system appeared to me, if not infallible, at least a very ingenious one; still I could not persuade myself, that it was possible to command success. I wished, however, to show him that I had perfectly understood him.

"All your precepts are very clear," said I, with an appearance of conviction, "and may be summed up as follows:—

"Before risking money at play, consider whether you are in a lucky vein, and study the probabilities of the game, or, as you call it, the maturity of chances."

"Just so," rejoined M. Raymond. "This system is so sure and certain, that I have latterly applied it most successfully.

"This morning I felt that it was one of my lucky days, those days so rare in the life of a gambler.

"This feeling was so strong in me, that I felt instinctively that something good would happen to me.

"On arriving at the table, I, however, at first only made a few trifling experiments at rouge-et-noir.

"My success confirmed my impressions. "It would not have been prudent to exhaust the vein of my good luck, so I stopped, and, taking a card, began to study the maturity of the chances before making my great coup.

"After an hour spent in making observations, I thought the favourable moment had arrived, I placed ten francs on No. 33. I lost: one must expect that; but, confident in my successful vein, even more than in the No. 33, the maturity of which had not come to its full, I martingaled four times running.F

"At the fifth coup, the probabilities proved in the right. The ball stopped at my lucky number.

"My four martingales having amounted to eighty francs, the sum paid me, according to the rules of the game, was thirty-six times that amount. I received 2880 francs (about 115l.).

"A fool would have gone on; but I, not wishing to tempt fortune, and in order to avoid losing all my gains, quitted the table."

Clever as was the system of M. Raymond, he could not, however, imbue me with the wish of risking the smallest sum at roulette. I have always looked on this game, as a trap baited with the prospect of an easy gain. In fact, how many men have, like M. Raymond, invented systems and theories to break the bank, who have only succeeded in ruining themselves, and any fools who would listen to them.

A few days afterwards, I quitted Spa to return to France, and, as often happens with friends picked up in one's travels, M. Raymond and I parted, as I thought, never to meet again.

It was not, however, thus destined.

Two years afterwards I found myself at Baden-Baden, and was walking on the Lichtenthal promenade. A man I had not before observed, came, and, placing himself suddenly before me, looked at me, as much as to say: "Do you recognise me?"

This man, judging by his appearance, was not one of the aristocracy of the Baden society. He wore a brown coat, which had that peculiar shiny look, which bespeaks long service. It was buttoned up to the throat, to allow him to dispense with the luxury of a waistcoat, or at least to prevent a too minute inspection of his under garments.

His face was ornamented with a pair of large "blondes moustaches," very carefully arranged.

"How the loss of a beard changes the appearance of a man!" said a voice, which I recognised immediately to be that of M. Raymond.

"True," I replied, somewhat absent by a remembrance of former days crossing my brain: "It is true, you are much changed." I looked at M. Raymond; more old recollections crowded into my mind. Those thick moustachios, that military appearance, were connected with an event which had once impressed me deeply. Still I could not quite recall the facts to my mind.

"I will not longer interrupt you in your walk," said M. Raymond, moving away; feeling hurt probably at my hesitation, of which he did not know the cause—when I stopped him:

"You do not interrupt me, 'Mon Voisin,'" I said; "let us walk on together, and we will go to a less frequented part, where you will be able to relate to me, more at your ease, all that has happened to you since we parted."

"Ah! Mon Dieu!" replied poor Raymond with a sigh, "my tale is a simple one; you shall judge for yourself.

"A fortnight after your departure, my luck turned. Bad luck pursued me, as it had never done before. According to my principles, I waited, hoping for a better chance; but my frightful ill-luck continued for six months. I changed my locale, to turn my luck, but all in vain. The best-established maturities, the most wonderful chances, all became, for me, elements of ruin.

"At my wits' end, as well as at the end of my resources, I sold in succession, jewels, linen, and clothes, by the proceeds of which I hoped to save myself from ruin; but in vain.

"I played with caution, and studied in despair, all the chances for and against me. I made nothing but unlucky hits, and was soon reduced to utter poverty.

"Ever since then, I have led the most extraordinary existence in the world. Too proud to beg, I endured with resignation the most cruel privations. I cannot tell how it was, that I did not die of hunger.

"You may well believe that I did not wish to be recognised, in such a pitiable position. I, the lucky gambler 'Voisin Raymond,' whom all admired for his talent and good luck.

"I could not bear the pity of my former admirers.

"I shaved off my beard, the type in some measure of my greatness, and thus transformed, I lived unknown, waiting for better days."

Proud, as M. Raymond seemed to be, I did not think he would refuse a little assistance; but fearing to wound his susceptibility, I contrived to slip a napoleon into his hand, while giving it a parting shake.

"I accept what you offer me, but only as a loan," said he, "remember that:—Thanks, 'au revoir!'"

On this, "Mon Voisin" quitted me, with much precipitation.

Curious to learn what he intended to do, I followed him unseen, and saw him direct his steps to that yawning gulf, the roulette-table. I was not surprised; all gamblers are alike.

The same evening, Raymond approached me with a triumphant air.

"Well!" exclaimed he, "they are right who say that borrowed money brings luck! Here I am, again in a lucky vein; I have played prudently and for small stakes; the result is, that I have won a hundred francs. It is a return of my former good fortune. Allow me, therefore, while thanking you, to retain for a time the napoleon you lent me; I look on it as a talisman, by means of which I hope to get out of all my difficulties."

Cruel deception! The following day, the talisman and its luck fell a prey to the rake of the hard-hearted croupier.

"A few more francs," said Raymond, when relating this misfortune, "and I could have stood out against my unlucky vein. You must know, my system has completely changed, and I feel so confident in my new system, that, with only three hundred francs, I feel assured that I could break the bank."

From all this, I saw that Raymond had lost, if not his wits, at least his judgment.

"You had much better leave Baden, Raymond," I said to him, "and devote yourself to some less dangerous occupation. Were you never in any profession, which you could again take up?"

"Alas! The profession I exercised formerly, was one still more dangerous; I quitted it twenty years since, and I swore never to resume it again."

This explanation, short as it was, threw a sudden light upon the vague recollections, which the altered face of Raymond had awakened in my mind.

"Wait," said I to him, looking at him attentively. "Yes! It certainly is,—were you not some twenty years since at a ball, which was given at the Veau qui TÊte?"

"Yes! Well, what of it?"

"Do you recollect being questioned, after an unusual run of luck at Écarte, and how you afterwards were chased by the police?"

"I remember the circumstance," replied Raymond, with the greatest calmness, "and the more so, because, as a termination to that scene and many preceding ones, finding myself tracked and nearly discovered, I fled to Germany, abandoning my dangerous career for a more tranquil and honest life.

"I there took another name, and with my thick beard, which almost hid my features, few would have recognised me; of this you can judge for yourself."

This candid avowal gave me hopes of obtaining from Raymond, an account of his former life, which could not but be interesting. I hoped to find there some facts, which would be of use for the work I was writing on sharpers. I did not hesitate to ask him to oblige me, and, in the hope of inducing him to admit me into his confidence, I offered to lend him three hundred francs (£12), which he was to return, when he had made his fortune. It was giving them to him, under another form.

Raymond agreed to both my propositions, but begged to be allowed until the morrow, to enable him to collect his ideas a little.