'They're ours all right. The ambo; that's how much—seventy-five francs.'
The Crevequers were rapid and accurate at mental arithmetic.
Congratulation buzzed round them.
Some one raised a voice of anguish.
'Madre Dio, I should have won the terno if I'd staked the numbers my husband had from the parocco, and I forgot all about it!'
The general opinion, conveyed by shrugs and expressive pursings of the lips, seemed to be that this was a great pity for Maddalena. They all knew her husband, who was a Guardian of the Public Security and a hard man. A friend of his remarked, in a confidential undertone, with no uncertainty on the subject, 'He'll cut her throat for her.'
'It won't be the first time if he does,' returned his neighbour. 'Dio! what a fool!'
A man from a table in a corner got up and came over to the Crevequers, and sat down beside them, with an aspect of resolution, good-humoured but adamant.
'I shall come with you when you fetch it,' he observed, nodding cheerfully.
Tommy looked at him, his eyebrows a little aggrieved.