“Look here, Manne, all this that seems so safe and still—shall we cut through the pack for it tonight?”
When these words escaped Stellan he had still no second thought. It looked as if Manne did not at first understand what he meant. He remained silent for a long time, but then he mumbled too:
“Yes. Let’s cut for it.”
There was a strange dull note of relief in his voice. It was as if his friend had relieved him of the burden of willing and choosing for himself.
Thoughts flashed quick as lightning through Stellan’s brain. It was now that he began to feel a strange assurance that he would somehow win. His words came quick, like rapier thrusts:
“I have an unopened pack of cards with me. We will simply back our luck. He who draws the highest heart stays. The other leaves early tomorrow morning on the clear understanding that he does not intend to come back.”
Manne was paler than ever and had a vacant look in his eyes:
“Right you are!”
Stellan ran inside to his room and searched for the cards. The lamp was not lit. He had to search for a long time in his suit case. Meanwhile he was thinking swift as lightning. “Manne must not draw the highest heart,” he thought, “No, not this time. For then all is over with me....” The shiver and the dizziness he had felt in the park returned. “No, Manne must not draw the highest card....” At last he found the pack of cards, picked it up with trembling hands and pressed his thumb nail hard into the edge of the ace of hearts as it peeped out through the round hole in the wrapper. There must be quite a noticeable mark on the other side ... Stellan had not premeditated this, had never before done anything of the kind. He felt something approaching surprise.
“Well, that is what we Selambs do,” he muttered to himself. Quickly he went back to Manne’s room and flung the pack on the table: