Free Errors of Judgment by Caro Fraser Page A

that moment with a glass of champagne on a little silver tray. ‘Please,’ said Mr Depaul, handing it to Anthony. ‘I insist. You are our guest. There are no big payouts with blackjack, but if you’re adventurous and play several boxes at once, the wins can mount up.’
    ‘And the losses, no doubt,’ said Anthony, sipping his champagne.
    ‘Our clients aren’t counting their losses, Mr Cross. They only think about winning. That’s the excitement, the pleasure. Now, this is the baccarat table. In some casinos it is called Punto Banco. A very simple card game, but with a lot of suspense. The players bet on a player or on the bank, or they can play for what is called an “
egalité
”, or a “tie”, which pays out at eight to one. There is a nice little tension which rises when the third card, the make-or-break card, isdrawn.’ Mr Depaul gestured around as they moved away. ‘Then we have the poker tables. There are many variations of the game. Clients here generally play for very high stakes. And lastly,’ Mr Depaul led him to one of the roulette tables, ‘perhaps the most popular game. Roulette was the Lion King’s favourite. Very simple, as you know – you bet on a number, the wheel is spun, and the number into which the ball falls pays out.’ Mr Depaul nodded at the croupier, who flicked the little ball and set the wheel turning. Anthony watched. There was something mesmeric about the gleam and spin of the wheel, and the clatter of the ball. ‘In the US and on the Continent, casinos have wheels with zero and double zero, which doubles the house advantage, but here in the UK we play only one zero.’
    ‘Not especially good odds,’ said Anthony.
    ‘Ah, but don’t forget that if you win, the payout is thirty-five to one, and that is a very exciting prospect. Especially if you’re playing for high stakes.’
    ‘And if you’re rich enough not to mind losing more times than you win.’
    Mr Depaul smiled. ‘Your approach to this is too clinical. People come here to escape, to enjoy the thrill of the tables, not to make money. I doubt if we would ever make a gambler of you, Mr Cross.’
    Anthony finished his champagne. ‘It’s been fascinating. Thanks.’
    ‘My pleasure,’ said Mr Depaul, with a little bow. ‘Perhaps one evening when our case has been successfully concluded, we can look forward to your company at the casino.’
    Anthony smiled. ‘Perhaps.’
    He left Astleigh’s and headed up Curzon Street in thegathering dusk, and had almost reached Park Lane when he heard a voice hailing him.
    ‘Anthony! Yo!’
    Anthony turned and saw a thickset young man with tousled fair hair waving from the other side of the street. It was Edward Choke, his old rival in pupillage. Edward was from a wealthy and influential family, one of those charmed beings who happily expect the good things in life to fall into their lap without much effort or endeavour on their part, but whom it was impossible to dislike. When he and Anthony had both been pupils at 5 Caper Court some years earlier, Edward, as the nephew of the then head of chambers, had expected to secure a tenancy without much difficulty. On a chambers vote, however, he had lost out to Anthony, and it was testimony both to Edward’s good nature and singular lack of ambition that he hadn’t for one moment begrudged Anthony the place. Edward knew Anthony was cleverer than he was, and far more deserving of the tenancy. A career at the Bar had meant everything to Anthony, and the tenancy at 5 Caper Court had been the ultimate reward for years of struggle and hard work. For Edward, it had merely been one of a number of options available to him – family connections meant that he would never be short of a job of some kind.
    Anthony watched Edward cross the street, dodging taxis. They shook hands. ‘Good to see you, Ed. It’s been a long time.’
    ‘Three years at least, I’d say. Where the hell have you been?’
    Anthony smiled. ‘Where I’ve always been.