“You plan things without me.”
Several of the members began to protest it was not true.
“I know better,” said Beausire; “and these false friends shall be punished.” He put his hand to his side to feel for his sword, but, as it was not there, he only shook his pocket, and the gold rattled.
“Oh, oh!” said the banker, “M. Beausire has not lost. Come, will you not play?”
“Thanks,” said Beausire; “I will keep what I have got.”
“Only one louis,” said one of the women, caressingly.
“I do not play for miserable louis,” said he. “We play for millions here to-night—yes, gentlemen, millions.”
He had worked himself up into a great state of excitement, and was losing sight of all prudence, when a blow from behind made him turn, and he saw by him a great dark figure, stiff and upright, and with two shining black eyes. He met Beausire’s furious glance with a ceremonious bow.
“The Portuguese!” said Beausire.
“The Portuguese!” echoed the ladies, who abandoned Beausire to crowd round the newcomer, he being their especial pet, as he was in the habit of bringing them sweetmeats, sometimes wrapped up in notes of forty or fifty francs. This man was one of the twelve associates.