"Count the sum you have."
"That is unnecessary, Señor; there are nine thousand four hundred and fifty gold ounces."[1]
At the statement of this formidable amount the spectators gave vent to a mingled shout of admiration and covetousness.
"I fancied you richer," the stranger said ironically. "Well, so be it then."
"Will you cut this time, excellency?"
"No, I am thoroughly convinced you are going to lose, Tío Lucas, and I wish you to be quite convinced that I have won fairly. In consequence, do me the pleasure of cutting, yourself. You will then be the artisan of your own ruin, and be unable to reproach anybody."
The spectators quivered with pleasure on seeing the chivalrous way in which the stranger behaved. At this moment the street was thronged with people whom the rumour of this remarkable stake had collected from every part of the town. A deadly silence prevailed through the crowd, so great was the interest that each felt in the dénouement of this grand and hitherto unexampled match. The banker wiped the perspiration that beaded on his livid brow, and seized the first card with a trembling hand. He balanced it for a few seconds between finger and thumb with manifest hesitation.
"Make haste," Cucharés cried to him with a grin.
Tío Lucas mechanically let the card fall as he turned his head away.
"Seis de copas!" the lepero shouted in a hoarse voice.