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A TEN-DOLLAR PHANTASY
By Frank Filson
( Childe strode out of the Casino at
Monte Carlo exultantly, conscious
that a thousand eyes were watching
him with envy. Two hours before he
had entered with 50 francs in his
pocket, the only money he possessed
in the world. He had broken the
bank he had made 100,000 francs,
or $20,000 in Amercian money. He
had achieved a record, for he had
thrice backed winning numbers in a
single sitting.
He had never had more than $500
in his life. He planned his future as
he strode through the palm gardens.
He would leave Monte Carlo the fol
lowing morning. He would go home,
buy an estate, settle down, marry
perhaps
"Pardon, monsieur!"
The figure lurched against him
drunkenly. As Childe stepped aside
another man sprang at him from the
shrubbery. He struck clumsily, how
ever. Childe's fist shot out The
man, struck squarely upon the jaw,
collapsed upon the ground. His com
panion took to his heels. Childe, with
a hasty glance at the prostrate ruf
fianfian, made his way hastily back
to his hotel, a little place run by a
scoundrely Levantine, but the best
that Childe had been able to afford.
He did not like the idea of spending
another night there, but no matter.
In the morning he would be gone. As
suring himself that his winnings were
intact, he entered, ascended the stairs
and flung himself down on his bed,
fully dressed.
An hour later he was aroused by a
knocking at the door. He thrust his
head out cautiously. The landlord
and two gendarmes stood m the pas
sage. "A little error, doubtless, mon
sieur," muttered the landlord.
"Monsieur Childe'" inquired the
gendarmes.
"Well, gentlemen?"
"You are under arerst."
A pair of revolvers simultaneously
covered him. Childe shrugged his
shoulders.
"As you wish," he said indifferently.
"What is the charge?"
"The sergeant will explain that,
monsieur."
Accompanied by the men, Childe
descended the stairs, crossed the de
serted road, and, after many turns,
found himself outside a disreputable
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"Try Me," Answered Childe.
station house. Inside was an official
at a desk, yawning.
"This is the murderer," announced
one of the gendarmes.
"What?" cried Childe.
"You are accused of the murder of
a citizen of Monaco in the Palm Gar
dens," explained the sergeant. "If
you have any valuables you will hand
them over and recive an acknowl
edgement" "But the fellow attacked me,"
Childe began.
"Doubtless monsier will convince
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