"Are you not going to offer your services to the wounded man?" I asked.
"Certainly; that is my intention. I know my duty. But on the cards which de Morin is dealing hangs my fate. If they are good, I shall win the second game, and, consequently, the rubber. Munza will not die from the momentary delay."
He took the five cards which his adversary had just laid tenderly on the grass, looked at him, and said—
"I play."
"Play," said de Morin, with a smile, as if he were sure of the game.
For a moment I forgot all about the King of the Monbuttoos in my interest in his hand, which might possibly be a decisive one. It was not so. De Morin, thanks to a wretched little trump, made the third trick and went out. They were consequently game and game, and had to play the conqueror.
"I must go and attend to the King's wound," said the doctor, laying hold of his instrument case, which he had taken care to bring with him.
"Shall I come with you?" asked de Morin.
"There is no necessity for that," replied Delange, as he went away. "I shall be back directly. Take care of the cards, whatever you do, and keep them out of harm's way."
"I will cover them with my body!" exclaimed de Morin.