of the Exchequer—Mr Lloyd-George—met the same fate because he wore a Norfolk coat. The latter case was particularly annoying as the rest of the party, who had also been golfing, were allowed in the Rooms on the strength of their being clad in plain country clothes—a fine distinction that evidently appealed to the door-keeper.
Most Monte Carlo stories are too well known to be worth repeating, but H. H. was particularly fond of the oft-told tale of the man who rose from the tables muttering "Ruined! Ruined!" as he staggered out of the room. A minute later a shot was fired in the garden, and the officials, rushing out, found the man lying in the middle of the path with a smoking revolver in his hand. In accordance with custom the officials stuffed his pockets with bank notes ere they went to get assistance.
The moment they were out of sight the "corpse" rose to his feet, and re-entered the Casino. The indignation of the officials can be imagined when after a hue and cry they finally discovered him playing a winning game of rouge et noir with their money, secure in the knowledge that they dared not arrest him.
On the brow of the hill just opposite the Casino stands the little English Church. On one occasion as the first morning hymn—No. 4—was given out, one of the congregation rose and left the building. He hurried to the casino to put a sovereign on 4 en plein. It turned up three times running. The lucky winner could not keep such a piece of good fortune to himself, with the result that on the following Sunday the church was packed to the brim. As the first hymn was given out there was a perfect stampede for the door, as the gamblers young and old rushed to the
