Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1902-03-27
Observation-Disclosures

|
By birth a gentleman, by force of cir
cumstances jack of all trades, by pro
fession a raconteur.
Such was my record when arrived
in England, whittier the fame of my
stories had preceded me- Almost di-
rectly 1 received a letter from Lord
Brewer of Tentowers castle, in Surrey,
requesting me to come down to his
| place, as he was entertaining a large
house party.
/ The castle, founded as a monastery,
was a most romantic pile, representing
in its various towers and wings sue
cession of architectural periods. It's
maze of winding corridors and hidden
stairways suggested mystery and in
vited exploration.
My initial appearance before Lord
Brower's guests was to be at dinner,
and l spent the last moments before
leaving my apartment in reading over
the list of topics l had jotted down for
use during the evening. a raconteur
is expected to fill in every lull, every
dull moment. Suddenly there fell upon
the quiet of my room these words:
eve must run it up 70 5000 tonight!
Do you hear? We mustr'
l stared round the room. 1t seemed
as if the sound had come through some
| dull tapestry in small alcove. Per-
haps the tapestry covered a secret door,
| but there was no time to investigate
A resplendent footman was waiting to
| conduct me to Lord Brower's presence.
| An interesting lot they were gathered
around the dinner table of Tentowers
| castle that night-that is, they were in
teresting to me as types for study. AS
conversationalists they were failures,
| for the only subjects on which they
talked fiuently were cards and horse
| flesh.
l selected my stories accordingly.
The guests were apparently familiar
with the customs of Monte Carlo, but
told them tales of our own wild west,
Of games of faro and poker that fairly
made them gasp, and after dinner
must teach them our national game Of
chance.
Sitting opposite me at table was a
broad shouldered, dark man, whose
eyes, black and set rather close togeth-
er, never left my face. His lips were
thin and bloodless, and his long, rather
aquiline nose had a cruel curve about
the nostrils. But what most attracted
my attention was his odd trick of
drumming almost constantly with his
right hand, now on the table, now on
the arm of his chair and now on his
square chin. The instant he spoke I
recognized the voice back of the tapes
try in my room. His name was Cap
tain Marchand.
His wife sat at my right. a handsome
woman, with profusiJn of soft brown
hair and beautiful blue eyes, which, l
learned in short time, were playing
havoc with the mental peace of a young
fellow named Chadwick, who was
plainly jealous of every smile the lady
wasted on me. He was handsome,
boyish looking fellow, one of those
chaps who imagine themselves violent
ly in love with every pretty face they
meet.
Mrs. Marchand seemed to have
caught her husbands peculiar trick Of
beating that devilish tattoo with her
fingers. 1t fairly got my nerves on
edge, but no one else at the table ap-
peared to notice it. l caught myself
recalling stories of telegraph operators
who continued their work automatical-
ly after Office hours, but surely these
two guests of an English aristocrat
knew nothing of a trade. In the course
of my eventful and uncertain life / had
been an operator for short period.
After the ladies had withdrawn
told my choicest stag stories, to which
the men drank freely, and by the time
we rose to enter the drawing room it
can be truthfully said that Captain
Marchand and myself were the only
men who were thoroughly sober.
During the next hour I was kept
busy explaining the intricacies of polk
er, after which l watched the guests
yield to the fascination of the game
Soon little piles of sovereigns and notes
appeared and disappeared at the vari-
Gus tables. Excitement grew apace
and the very faces of the players were
transformed. The greed of gain was
upon them. 1t was my first glimpse Of
the English aristocrat at his private
gaming table.
Finally interest centered at the table
where Marchand and young Chadwick
held forth alone. At the beginning
Chadwick had won, and with trium-
phant gesture he would haul in his lit
a sparkle to his eye and daring to his
tongue, for he kept Mrs. Marchand
close to his side, declaring her to be his
mascot and casting such languishing
glances into her perfect blue eyes that
| wondered at Captain Marchand's s
calmness. When Chadwick won, she
clapped her hands in girlish glee, and
once or twice 1 caught cynical smile
on Marchand's lips. Clearly her pres
ence was going to Chadwicks head.
He played recklessly.
s'I'll make it f4,0OOr exclaimed the
captain.
A hush fell on the room. Then rose
Mrs. Marchand's clear, sweet voice:
"How exciting! Oh, Mr.. Chadwick,
go him one better! Make it 5,O00r'
The other guests rose and gathered
round the table. Lord Brewer stood
on the hearth rug, glancing toward the
group with troubled eyes. heard him
say under his breath:
''The lad can't afford to lose that
amount"
/ joined the spectators just as Chad
wick called for another card Then