Cries of "yes, yes" filled the room.
"All right, then," said Duval. "We shall now proceed with the drawing."
He opened one side of the box, and motioned for the first man to approach. The latter did so, drew forth a ball and exposed it to view. It was black, and the man passed on.
Man after man drew and each pulled forth a black ball. Now it came
Chester's turn, and so far neither red ball had been drawn.
Slowly the lad approached with his heart in his mouth. To himself he muttered:
"I'll draw a red one just as sure as I stand here. I can feel it!"
For a moment he hesitated, and Duval's keen eyes caught the sign of indecision. He half rose to his feet.
"We want no chicken-hearts," he said. "However, draw or not, as you choose."
Chester caught the cold menace in the tone, and he realized that should he fail to draw, knowing what he did of the plot, he would never leave the room alive.
He thrust his hand into the box, clutched an elusive ball and drew it forth. He looked at it quickly and held it aloft.