I found that
Craig had paused in his play at a moment when DeLong had staked a
large sum that a number below "18" would turn up--for five plays
the numbers had been between "18" and "36." Curious to see what
Craig was doing, I looked cautiously down between us. All eyes
were fixed on the wheel. Kennedy was holding an ordinary compass
in the crooked-up palm of his hand. The needle pointed at me, as
I happened to be standing north of it.
The wheel spun. Suddenly the needle swung around to a point
between the north and south poles, quivered a moment, and came to
rest in that position. Then it swung back to the north.
It was some seconds before I realised the significance of it. It
had pointed at the table--and DeLong had lost again. There was
some electric attachment at work.
Kennedy and I exchanged glances, and he shoved the compass into
my hand quickly. "You watch it, Walter, while I play," he
whispered.
Carefully concealing it, as he had done, yet holding it as close
to the table as I dared I tried to follow two things at once
without betraying myself. As near as I could make out, something
happened at every play. I would not go so far as to assert that
whenever the larger stakes were on a certain number the needle
pointed to the opposite side of the wheel, for it was impossible
to be at all accurate about it.
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