"Curse the luck!" he exclaimed, as "17" appeared again.
A Hebrew banker staked a pile of chips on the "17" to come up a third
time. A murmur of applause at his nerve ran through the circle. DeLong
hesitated, as one who thought, "Seventeen has come out twice--the odds
against its coming again are too great, even though the winnings would
be fabulous, for a good stake." He placed his next bet on another
number.
"He's playing Lord Rosslyn's system, to-night," whispered my friend.
The wheel spun, the ball rolled, and the croupier called again,
"Seventeen, black." A tremor of excitement ran through the crowd. It
was almost unprecedented.
DeLong, with a stiffed oath, leaned back and scanned the faces about
the table.
"And '17' has precisely the same chance of turning up in the next
spin as if it had not already had a run of three," said a voice at my
elbow.
It was Kennedy. The roulette-table needs no introduction when curious
sequences are afoot. All are friends.
"That's the theory of Sir Hiram Maxim," commented my friend, as he
excused himself reluctantly for another appointment. "But no true
gambler will believe it, monsieur, or at least act on it."
All eyes were turned on Kennedy, who made a gesture of polite
deprecation, as if the remark of my friend were true, but--he
nonchalantly placed his chips on the "17."
"The odds against '17' appearing four consecutive times are some
millions," he went on, "and yet, having appeared three times, it is
just as likely to appear again as before.
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