"Six cards," says he.
"What do they count?"
"Fifty-four."
"That's not good. Is that all you have to declare?"
"Yes; for it is not likely that my three queens will turn out valueless."
"Indeed!" You then spread your sixième major on the table, and say—sixteen and six make twenty-two; and quatorze of kings (you show them) ninety-six; and quatorze of aces, a hundred and ten.
These two quatorzes have all this time been hidden in your left hand.
Here I must explain, par parenthèse, something which it will be necessary for my readers to know, so as to understand what follows. While continuing the counting of this coup de piquet, we will secretly prepare a coup d'écarté, which we will execute after this game.
Let us take up the counting where we left off.
"A hundred and ten," we have said. "A hundred and eleven," you say, taking up the nine of spades of your sixième, and putting it on one side—"a hundred and twelve," putting the ten on it; and, continuing your calculation, you do the same with the other four cards; with this difference, that when you come to the king, you put the ace before him, so that he may be the last card in the pack.