ian fleming.casino royale-第13部分

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nd　and　to　either　side　of　the　banker。　They　looked　respectable　enough；　but　not　sufficiently　a　part　of　the　game　to　be　unobtrusive。
　The　one　more　or　less　behind　Le　Chiffre's　right　arm　was　tall　and　funereal　in　his　dinner…jacket。　His　face　was　wooden　and　grey；　but　his　eyes　flickered　and　gleamed　like　a　conjurer's。　His　whole　long　body　was　restless　and　his　hands　shifted　often　on　the　brass　rail。　Bond　guessed　that　he　would　kill　without　interest　or　concern　for　what　he　killed　and　that　he　would　prefer　strangling。　He　had　something　of　Lennie　in　Of　Mice　and　Men；　but　his　inhumanity　would　not　e　from　infantilism　but　from　drugs。　Marihuana；　decided　Bond。
　The　other　man　looked　like　a　Corsican　shopkeeper。　He　was　short　and　very　dark　with　a　flat　head　covered　with　thickly　greased　hair。　He　seemed　to　be　a　cripple。　A　chunky　malacca　cane　with　a　rubber　tip　hung　on　the　rail　beside　him。　He　must　have　had　permission　to　bring　the　cane　into　the　Casino　with　him；　reflected　Bond；　who　knew　that　neither　sticks　nor　any　other　objects　were　allowed　in　the　rooms　as　a　precaution　against　acts　of　violence。　He　looked　sleek　and　well　fed。　His　mouth　hung　vacantly　half…open　and　revealed　very　bad　teeth。　He　wore　a　heavy　black　moustache　and　the　backs　of　his　hands　on　the　rail　were　matted　with　black　hair。　Bond　guessed　that　hair　covered　most　of　his　squat　body。　Naked；　Bond　supposed；　he　would　be　an　obscene　object。
　The　game　continued　uneventfully；　but　with　a　slight　bias　against　the　bank。
　The　third　coup　is　the　'sound　barrier'　at　chemin…de…fer　and　baccarat。　Your　luck　can　defeat　the　first　and　second　tests；　but　when　the　third　deal　es　along　it　most　often　spells　disaster。　Again　and　again　at　this　point　you　find　yourself　being　bounced　back　to　earth。　It　was　like　that　now。　Neither　the　bank　nor　any　of　the　players　seemed　to　be　able　to　get　hot。　But　there　was　a　steady　and　inexorable　seepage　against　the　bank；　amounting　after　about　two　hours'　play　to　ten　million　francs。　Bond　had　no　idea　what　profits　Le　Chiffre　had　made　over　the　past　two　days。　He　estimated　them　at　five　million　and　guessed　that　now　the　banker's　capital　could　not　be　more　than　twenty　million。
　In　fact；　Le　Chiffre　had　lost　heavily　all　that　afternoon。　At　this　moment　he　only　had　ten　million　left。
　Bond；　on　the　other　hand；　by　one　o'clock　in　the　morning；　had　won　four　million；　bringing　his　resources　up　to　twenty…eight　million。
　Bond　was　cautiously　pleased。　Le　Chiffre　showed　no　trace　of　emotion。　He　continued　to　play　like　an　automaton；　never　speaking　except　when　he　gave　instructions　in　a　low　aside　to　the　croupier　at　the　opening　of　each　new　bank。
　Outside　the　pool　of　silence　round　the　high　table；　there　was　the　constant　hum　of　the　other　tables；　chemin…de…fer；　roulette　and　trente…et…quarante；　interspersed　with　the　clear　calls　of　the　croupiers　and　occasional　bursts　of　laughter　or　gasps　of　excitement　from　different　corners　of　the　huge　salle。
　In　the　background　there　thudded　always　the　hidden　metronome　of　the　Casino；　ticking　up　its　little　treasure　of　one…per…cents　with　each　spin　of　a　wheel　and　each　turn　of　a　card　…　a　pulsing　fat…cat　with　a　zero　for　a　heart。
　It　was　at　ten　minutes　past　one　by　Bond's　watch　when；　at　the　high　table；　the　whole　pattern　of　play　suddenly　altered。
　The　Greek　at　Number　1　was　still　having　a　bad　time。　He　had　lost　the　first　coup　of　half　a　million　francs　and　the　second。　He　passed　the　third　time；　leaving　a　bank　of　two　millions。　Carmel　Delane　at　Number　2　refused　it。　So　did　Lady　Danvers　at　Number　3。
　The　Du　Ponts　looked　at　each　other。
　'Banco；'　said　Mrs　Du　Pont；　and　promptly　lost　to　the　banker's　natural　eight。
　'Un　banco　de　quatre　millions；'　said　the　croupier。
　'Banco；'　said　Bond；　pushing　out　a　wad　of　notes。
　Again　he　fixed　Le　Chiffre　with　his　eye。　Again　he　gave　only　a　cursory　look　at　his　two　cards。
　'No；'　he　said。　He　held　a　marginal　five。　The　position　was　dangerous。
　Le　Chiffre　turned　up　a　knave　and　a　four。　He　gave　the　shoe　another　slap。　He　drew　a　three。
　'Sept　à　la　banque；'　said　the　croupier；　'et　cinq；'　he　added　as　he　tipped　Bond's　losing　cards　face　upwards。　He　raked　over　Bond's　money；　extracted　four　million　francs　and　returned　the　remainder　to　Bond。
　'Un　banco　de　huit　millions。'
　'Suivi；'　said　Bond。
　And　lost　again；　to　a　natural　nine。
　In　two　coups　he　had　lost　twelve　million　francs。　By　scraping　the　barrel；　he　had　just　sixteen　million　francs　left；　exactly　the　amount　of　the　next　banco。
　Suddenly　Bond　felt　the　sweat　on　his　palms。　Like　snow　in　sunshine　his　capital　had　melted。　With　the　covetous　deliberation　of　the　winning　gambler；　Le　Chiffre　was　tapping　a　light　tattoo　on　the　table　with　his　right　hand。　Bond　looked　across　into　the　eyes　of　murky　basalt。　They　held　an　ironical　question。　'Do　you　want　the　full　treatment？'　they　seemed　to　ask。
　'Suivi；'　Bond　said　softly。
　He　took　some　notes　and　plaques　out　of　his　right　hand　pocket　and　the　entire　stack　of　notes　out　of　his　left　and　pushed　them　forward。　There　was　no　hint　in　his　movements　that　this　would　be　his　last　stake。
　His　mouth　felt　suddenly　as　dry　as　flock　wall…paper。　He　looked　up　and　saw　Vesper　and　Felix　Leiter　standing　where　the　gunman　with　the　stick　had　stood。　He　did　not　know　how　long　they　had　been　standing　there。　Leiter　looked　faintly　worried；　but　Vesper　smiled　encouragement　at　him。
　He　heard　a　faint　rattle　on　the　rail　behind　him　and　turned　his　head。　The　battery　of　bad　teeth　under　the　black　moustache　gaped　vacantly　back　at　him。
　'Le　jeu　est　fait；'　said　the　croupier；　and　the　two　cards　came　slithering　towards　him　over　the　green　baize　…　a　green　baize　which　was　no　longer　smooth；　but　thick　now；　and　furry　and　almost　choking；　its　colour　as　livid　as　the　grass　on　a　fresh　tomb。
　The　light　from　the　broad　satin…lined　shades　which　had　seemed　so　weling　now　seemed　to　take　the　colour　out　of　his　hand　as　he　glanced　at　the　cards。　Then　he　looked　again。
　It　was　nearly　as　bad　as　it　could　have　been　…　the　king　of　hearts　and　an　ace；　the　ace　of　spades。　It　squinted　up　at　him　like　a　black　widow　spider。
　'A　card。'　He　still　kept　all　emotion　out　of　his　voice。
　Le　Chiffre　faced　his　own　two　cards。　He　had　a　queen　and　a　black　five。　He　looked　at　Bond　and　pressed　out　another　card　with　a　wide　forefinger。　The　table　was　absolutely　silent。　He　faced　it　and　flicked　it　away。　The　croupier　lifted　it　delicately　with　his　spatula　and　slipped　it　over　to　Bond。　It　was　a　good　card；　the　five　of　hearts；　but　to　Bond　it　was　a　difficult　fingerprint　in　dried　blood。　He　now　had　a　count　of　six　and　Le　Chiffre　a　count　of　five；　but　the　banker　having　a　five　and　giving　a　five；　would　and　must　draw　another　card　and　try　and　improve　with　a　one；　two；　three　or　four。　Drawing　any　other　card　he　would　be　defeated。
　The　odds　were　on　Bond's　side；　but　now　it　was　Le　Chiffre　who　looked　across　into　Bond's　eyes　and　hardly　glanced　at　the　card　as　he　flicked　it　face　upwards　on　the　table。
　It　was；　unnecessarily；　the　best；　a　four；　giving　the　bank　a　count　of　nine。　He　had　won；　almost　slowing　up。
　Bond　was　beaten　and　cleaned　out。
　
　
　CHAPTER　12　…　THE　DEADLY　TUBE
　Bond　sat　silent；　frozen　with　defeat。　He　opened　his　wide　black　case　and　took　out　a　cigarette。　He　snapped　open　the　tiny　jaws　of　the　Ronson　and　lit　the　cigarette　and　put　the　lighter　back　on　the　table。　He　took　a　deep　lungful　of　smoke　and　expelled　it　between　his　teeth　with　a　faint　hiss。
　What　now？　Back　to　the　hotel　and　bed；　avoiding　the　miserating　eyes　of　Mathis　and　Leiter　and　Vesper。　Back　to　the　telephone　call　to　London；　and　then　tomorrow　the　plane　home；　the　taxi　up　to　Regent's　Park；　the　walk　up　the　stairs　and　along　the　corridor；　and　M's　cold　face　across　the　table；　his　forced　sympathy；　his　'better　luck　next　time'　and；　of　course；　there　couldn't　be　one；　not　another　chance　like　this。
　He　looked　round　the　table　and　up　at　the　spectators。　Few　were　looking　at　him。　They　were　waiting　while　the　croupier　counted　the　money　and　piled　up　the　chips　in　a　neat　stack　in　front　of　the　banker；　waiting　to　see　if　anyone　would　conceivably　challenge　this　huge　bank　of　thirty…two　million　Francs；　this　wonderful　run　of　banker's　luck。
　Leiter　had　vanished；　not　wishing　to　look　Bond　in　the　eye　after　the　knock…out；　he　supposed。　Yet　Vesper　looked　curiously　unmoved；　she　gave　him　a　smile　of　encouragement。　But　then；　Bond　reflected；　she　knew　nothing　of　the　game。　Had　no　notion；　probably；　of　the　bitterness　of　his　defeat。
　The　huissier　was　ing　towards　Bond　inside　the　rail。　He　stopped　beside　him。　Bent　over　him。　Placed　a　squat　envelope　beside　Bond　on　the　table。　It　was　as　thick　as　a　dictionary。　Said　something　about　the　caisse。　Moved　away　again。
　Bond's　heart　thumped。　He　took　the　heavy　anonymous　envelope　below　the　level　of　the　table　and　slit　it　open　with　his　thumbnail；　noticing　that　the　gum　was　still　wet　on　the　flap。
　Unbelieving　and　yet　knowing　it　was　true；　he　felt　the　broad　wads　of　notes。　He　slipped　them　into　his　pockets；　retaining　the　half…sheet　of　note…paper　which　was　pinned　to　the　topmost　of　them。　He　glanced　at　it　in　the　shadow　below　the　table。　There　was　one　line　of　writing　in　ink：　'Marshall　Aid。　Thirty…two　million　francs。　With　the　pliments　of　the　USA。'
　Bond　swallowed。　He　looked　over　towards　Vesper。　Felix　Leiter　was　again　standing　beside　her。　He　grinned　slightly　and　Bond　smiled　back　and　raised　his　hand　from　the　table　in　a　small　gesture　of　benediction。　Then　he　set　his　mind　to　sweeping