He rose from the table and drew near the gamblers. The dice were thrown again.
"Those dice are loaded!" a loud voice broke out.
The Nut, who had flung out the accusation, stared at the gambler with blazing eyes. His heart was swelling with an unspeakable hatred. The Parisian. . . . The Parisian was before his eyes. . . . The man who had tortured him for such long years.
"That man has robbed you!"
The gamblers made a rush at the Parisian, but the Nut shook off the human cluster which stood between him and his enemy.
"No, no. . . . Leave him to me," he cried. "This man is my affair. He falls to my lot. Oh, how long I've waited for this moment!"
Chéri-Bibi tried in vain to intervene. The Parisian and the Nut, locked in a deadly embrace, were rolling on the floor.
As soon as hostilities broke out Sanda saw that the affair would end in a free fight and, as was his duty, sent one of his "boys" to warn the headman of the place. And at the height of the struggle, as the Parisian was gasping for breath under the pressure of the Nut's fingers, the saloon was plunged into complete darkness. The Parisian's confederates had put out the lamps. Someone shouted:
"Police!"
The police had, in fact, arrived. The lamps were lighted again, and it was seen that the birds had flown. . . .