“I come,” said Springer in a low voice, “to give you the advice of a gambler who just left here completely plucked. He said that if you quit in time, you’ll come out ahead; if you stay in, you may lose everything.”
“Really?” exclaimed Quentin, rising, as if he had just received important news. “Well, then, the only thing I can do is to leave. Gentlemen,” he added, addressing the players, “I shall return in a little while,” and placing the bills in his folder, he rapidly picked up the gold coins.
A murmur of indignation arose among the players.
“Come!” said Quentin to Springer.
They left the hall rapidly, descended the stairs, and did not stop until they had reached the street.
“But, what has happened to you?” the Swiss asked, utterly surprised.
“Nothing; it was a stratagem,” answered Quentin with a smile. “I could not find the right moment to leave decorously. They were all after me like dogs; and there I was boasting like a man to whom four or five thousand dollars more or less are of little importance. They would have gone up in smoke soon.”
By the light of a lamp, Quentin pulled out a handful of bills, sorted them, and put them into a folder; and then, unbuttoning first his coat, and then his vest, he put them in his inside pocket.
“Aren’t you afraid something may happen to you in the street?” asked the Swiss.
“Ca!”