The salle de jeu had but a single occupant, a tourneur who was engaged in dusting the little horses. To enable him to perform the necessary offices he removed the steeds from their places one after the other. As it chanced he was the identical individual who had been responsible for the course which had crowned 'Miss Doone' with victory. With that keen vision which is characteristic of his class the man recognised her on the instant. Bowing and smiling he held out to her the horse which he was holding.
"Vlà madame, le numéro cinq! C'est lui qui a porté le bonheur à madame."
It was, indeed, the horse which represented the number on which she had staked her five-franc piece. By an odd accident she had arrived just as its toilet was being performed. She observed what an excellent model it was with somewhat doubtful eyes, as if fearful of its being warranted neither steady nor free from vice.
"I have brought back the seven five-franc pieces which I--took away with me."
She held out the coins. As if at a loss he looked from them to her.
"But, madame, I do not understand."
"I can have nothing to do with money which is the fruit of gambling."
"But madame played."
"It was a misunderstanding. A mistake. It was not my intention. It is on that account I have come to return this money."
"Return?--to whom?--the administration? The administration will not accept it. It is impossible. What it has lost it has lost; there is an end."