Excerpt: ...pile for himself What does zero mean?" "Zero is what the bank takes for itself. If the wheel stops at that figure, everything lying on the table becomes the absolute property of the bank. Also, whenever the wheel has begun to turn, the bank ceases to pay out anything." "Then I should receive nothing if I were staking?" "No; unless by any chance you had PURPOSELY staked on zero; in which case you would receive thirty-five times the value of your stake." "Why thirty-five times, when zero so often turns up? And if so, why do not more of these fools stake upon it?" "Because the number of chances against its occurrence is thirty-six." "Rubbish Potapitch, Potapitch Come here, and I will give you some money." The old lady took out of her pocket a tightly-clasped purse, and extracted from its depths a ten-gulden piece. "Go at once, and stake that upon zero." "But, Madame, zero has only this moment turned up," I remonstrated; "wherefore, it may not do so again for ever so long. Wait a little, and you may then have a better chance." "Rubbish Stake, please." "Pardon me, but zero might not turn up again until, say, tonight, even though you had staked thousands upon it. It often happens so." "Rubbish, rubbish Who fears the wolf should never enter the forest. What? We have lost? Then stake again." A second ten-gulden piece did we lose, and then I put down a third. The Grandmother could scarcely remain seated in her chair, so intent was she upon the little ball as it leapt through the notches of the ever-revolving wheel. However, the third ten-gulden piece followed the first two. Upon this the Grandmother went perfectly crazy. She could no longer sit still, and actually struck the table with her fist when the croupier cried out, "Trente-six," instead of the desiderated zero. "To listen to him " fumed the old lady. "When will that accursed zero ever turn up? I cannot breathe until I see it. I believe that that infernal croupier is PURPOSELY keeping it from...