The ball stopped and settled in one of the compartments, and the old man took a gold-piece from one of the squares on the table, transferred a little pile of gold from his right side to his left, and jotted down some figures upon his paper.
And suddenly I was aware of an abysmal rage that filled me. It seemed like an abominable dream—the futile old man, the ruffians and their wenches below. And I had endured so much for Jacqueline, to find myself immeshed in such things in the end. I stepped forward and swept the entire heap of gold into the centre of the table.
"M. Duchaine!" I shouted. "Why are you playing the fool here when your daughter is suffering persecution?"
The old man seemed to be aware of my presence for the first time. He looked up at me out of his mild old eyes, and shook his head in apparent perplexity.
"You are welcome, monsieur," he said, half rising with a courtly air. "Do you wish to stake a few pieces in a game with me?"
He gathered up a handful of the coins and pushed them toward me.
"Of course, we shall give back our stakes at the end," he continued, eyeing me with a cunning expression, in which I seemed to detect avarice and madness, too.
"This is just to see how well we play. Afterward, if we are satisfied, we will play for real money—real gold."
He began to divide the gold-pieces into two heaps.
"You see, monsieur, I have a system—at least, I nearly have a system," he went on eagerly. "But it may not be so good as yours. Come. You shall be the banker, and see if you can win my money from me. But we shall return the stakes afterward."