"When we finish supper, she can go with me to my hotel, and we'll divide the money into three parts," Mary said to herself. "I'll give her two, and keep one. Even one will be like a little fortune; and whatever happens I'll keep enough to get away with; but I must play again to-morrow. It's too wonderful to stop yet."
But she was reckoning without Jim Schuyler.
When he saw the eyes of Madeleine hint that it was time to go, he said quickly, "Well, Mademoiselle, have you counted your winnings, and do you know exactly what they amount to?"
"No," said Mary, "not yet. I thought Madame d'Ambre and I might do that afterward."
"Can't we save you the trouble?" he asked. "Why not spread your store here on the table, and let us all work out the calculation? Everybody knows you broke the bank, so there's no imprudence or ostentation in displaying your wealth."
Without a word, Mary accepted the suggestion, since not to do so would have seemed ungrateful.
"She's given away a lot already," said Carleton. "I saw her distributing mille notes to lovely but unfortunate gamblers, as if she were dealing out biscuits."
"Oh, I gave away only four," Mary excused herself. "They were nothing."
Everybody laughed except Madeleine.
The fat stacks of French banknotes were extracted with some effort from the hand-bag into which they had been stuffed. Captain Hannaford and Schuyler counted while the others watched, Carleton with amused interest, Mary with comparative indifference, because the actual money meant less to her than the thrill of winning it, and Madame d'Ambre on the verge of tears. She considered that she was being robbed of her rights, for she knew that this merciless man with the hard jaw and pleasant blue eyes intended to keep her hands off the money.