He tells them they have no time to lose, as the Count has spoken of quitting Boulogne the following day.
The travellers swallow a hasty dinner, make some slight toilette, and bend their steps towards the apartment occupied by the Count, preceded by Chaffard, who introduces them as two friends of his, who have estates in the neighbourhood.
The Count de Vandermool is a man about fifty years of age, he has an open and pleasing countenance; on his breast hang several foreign decorations.
The new arrivals are received by him with the most flattering cordiality; he does more; he invites them to spend the evening with him.
The invitation, it is needless to say, is accepted. The conversation, at first animated, begins to flag a little. The Count proposes a game of cards, which proposal is also eagerly accepted by the three confederates.
Whilst the tables are being arranged, Chauvignac gave his young friend two packs of cards, biseautées, to be substituted for those which should be produced by the Count.
Écarté was the game fixed on, and Olivier was selected to play with the Belgian; the two others having pretended not to know the game, contented themselves by betting one against the other—as their interests were in common, it was of little consequence which won the bet.
Olivier was at first thunderstruck at the assertion of his two friends, that they did not know how to play, but from certain telegraphic signs they made to him, he discovered that it was to prevent suspicion, in case he should win.
The wealthy Count would only play for bank-notes. "Metal," he said, "has not an agreeable odour in a drawing-room."
The young novice, at first confused by being a party to such a snare, neglected for a time to take advantage of the prepared cards, and following the dictates of his conscience, trusted to the chances of fortune.