A
smattering of European languages aided him in this. He rubbed elbows
with coatless workmen in French, Swiss, Spanish and Italian "pensions,"
sitting at long tables and breaking black bread into red wine. He drank
black coffee and ate cloying sweetmeats in Greek or Turkish cafes;
hobnobbed with Sicilian fishermen, helping them to dry their nets and
sometimes accompanying them in their feluccas into rough seas beyond the
Heads. Now and then he invaded Chinatown and ate in their underground
restaurants, disdaining the "chop suey" and sweets invariably served to
tourists for the more palatable and engaging viands he had learned to
like and name in Shanghai and Canton. Fortunately, he could afford to
indulge his bent, for the value of his inheritance had increased
extraordinarily in the past decade. Stanley's income was more than
sufficient to insure a life of leisure.
* * * * *
At Market and Fourth streets stood a large and rather nondescript gray
structure built by Flood, the Comstock millionaire. It had served for
varied purposes, but now it housed the Palais Royal, an immense saloon
and gambling rendezvous. In the massive, barn-like room, tile-floored
and picture-ornamented, were close to a hundred tables where men of all
descriptions drank, played cards and talked.
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