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'。。。 and tell the police；' he concluded； 'tell them that the Englishman from Jamaica who was knocked over by the blast is my affair。 He is unhurt and they are not to worry him。 I will explain to them in half an hour。 They should tell the Press that it was apparently a vendetta between two Bulgarian munists and that one killed the other with a bomb。 They need say nothing of the third Bulgar who must have been hanging about somewhere； lout they must get him at all costs。 He will certainly head for Paris。 Road…blocks everywhere。 Understand？ Alors； bonne chance。'
Mathis turned back to Bond and heard him to the end。
'Merde； but you were lucky；' he said when Bond had finished。 'Clearly the bomb was intended for you。 It must have been faulty。 They intended to throw it and then dodge behind their tree。 But it all came out the other way round。 Never mind。 We will discover the facts。' He paused。 'But certainly it is a curious affair。 And these people appear to be taking you seriously。' Mathis looked affronted。 'But how did these sacré Bulgars intend to escape capture？ And what was the significance of the red and the blue cases？ We must try and find some fragments of the red one。'
Mathis bit his nails。 He was excited and his eyes glittered。 This was being a formidable and dramatic affair； in many aspects of which he was now involved personally。 Certainly it was no longer just a case of holding Bond's coat while he had his private battle with Le Chiffre in the Casino。 Mathis jumped up。
'Now get a drink and some lunch and a rest；' he ordered Bond。 'For me； I must get my nose quickly into this affair before the police have muddied the trail with their big black boots。'
Mathis turned off the radio and waved an affectionate farewell。 The door slammed and silence settled on the room。 Bond sat for a while by the window and enjoyed being alive。
Later； as Bond was finishing his first straight whisky 'on the rocks' and was contemplating the paté de foie gras and cold langouste which the waiter had just laid out for him； the telephone rang。
'This is Mademoiselle Lynd。'
The voice was low and anxious。
'Are you all right？'
'Yes； quite。'
'I'm glad。 Please take care of yourself。'
She rang off。
Bond shook himself； then he picked up his knife and selected the thickest of the pieces of hot toast。
He suddenly thought： two of them are dead； and I have got one more on my side。 It's a start。
He dipped the knife into the glass of very hot water which stood beside the pot of Strasbourg porcelain and reminded himself to tip the waiter doubly for this particular meal。
CHAPTER 7 … ROUGE ET NOIR
Bond was determined to be pletely fit and relaxed for a gambling session which might last most of the night。 He ordered a masseur for three o'clock。 After the remains of his luncheon had been removed； he sat at his window gazing out to sea until there came a knock on the door as the masseur； a Swede； presented himself
Silently he got to work on Bond from his feet to his neck； melting the tensions in his body and calming his still twanging nerves。 Even the long purpling bruises down Bond's left shoulder and side ceased to throb； and when the Swede had gone Bond fell into a dreamless sleep。
He awoke in the evening pletely refreshed。
After a cold shower； Bond walked over to the Casino。 Since the night before he had lost the mood of the tables。 He needed to re…establish that focus which is half mathematical and half intuitive and which； with a slow pulse and a sanguine temperament； Bond knew to be the essential equipment of any gambler who was set on winning。
Bond had always been a gambler。 He loved the dry riffle of the cards and the constant unemphatic drama of the quiet figures round the green tables。 He liked the solid； studied fort of card…rooms and casinos； the well…padded arms of the chairs； the glass of champagne or whisky at the elbow； the quiet unhurried attention of good servants。 He was amused by the impartiality of the roulette ball and of the playing…cards … and their eternal bias。 He liked being an actor and a spectator and from his chair to take part in other men's dramas and decisions； until it came to his own turn to say that vital 'yes' or 'no'； generally on a fifty…fifty chance。
Above all； he liked it that everything was one's own fault。 There was only oneself to praise or blame。 Luck was a servant and not a master。 Luck had to be accepted with a shrug or taken advantage of up to the hilt。 But it had to be understood and recognized for what it was and not confused with a faulty appreciation of the odds； for； at gambling； the deadly sin is to mistake bad play for bad luck。 And luck in all its moods had to be loved and not feared Bond saw luck as a woman； to be softly wooed or brutally ravaged； never pandered to or pursued。 But he was honest enough to admit that he had never yet been made to suffer by cards or by women。 One day； and he accepted the fact he would be brought to his knees by love or by luck。 When that happened he knew that he too would be branded with the deadly question…mark he recognized so often in others； the promise to pay before you have lost： the acceptance of fallibility。
But on this June evening when Bond walked through the 'kitchen' into the salle privée； it was with a sensation of confidence and cheerful anticipation that he changed a million francs into plaques of fifty mille and took a seat next to the chef de partie at Roulette Table Number 1。
Bond borrowed the chef's card and studied the run of the ball since the session had started at three o'clock that afternoon。 He always did this although he knew that each turn of the wheel； each fall of the ball into a numbered slot has absolutely no connexion with its predecessor。 He accepted that the game begins afresh each time the croupier picks up the ivory ball with his right hand； gives one of the four spokes of the wheel a controlled twist clockwise with the same hand； and with a third motion； also with the right hand； flicks the ball round the outer rim of the wheel anti…clockwise； against the spin。
It was obvious that all this ritual and all the mechanical minutiae of the wheel； of the numbered slots and the cylinder； had been devised and perfected over the years so that neither the skill of the croupier nor any bias in the wheel could affect the fall of the ball。 And yet it is a convention among roulette players； and Bond rigidly adhered to it； to take careful note of the past history of each session and to be guided by any peculiarities in the run of the wheel。 To note； for instance； and consider significant； sequences of more than two on a single number or of more than four at the other chances down to evens。
Bond didn't defend the practice。 He simply maintained that the more effort and ingenuity you put into gambling； the more you took out。
On the record of that particular table； after about three hours' play； Bond could see little of interest except that the last dozen had been out of favour。 It was his practice to play always with the wheel； and only to turn against its previous pattern and start on a new tack after a zero had turned up。 So he decided to play one of his favourite gambits and ba