"The chances in my favour are not sufficient."
"What a coward it is!"
"Add six more to the number and I will agree."
The trooper laughed and tossed half-a-dozen more of the white discs into his helmet. "There you are," he said. "Take one; you are perfectly safe."
"Shake them well together," whispered Mansart, who appeared to be almost fainting with the excitement of this terrible gamble.
Then he put his hand under the handkerchief and into the steel casque. He withdrew it slowly. The trooper snatched away his helmet to prevent any trick, and Simon looked at the disc which his fingers held.
It was the red one!
"HE REMAINED GAZING FIXEDLY AT THAT SYMBOL OF DEATH."
And he began to mutter; inarticulate words, such as one may use under the spell of some strangling dream. He remained gazing fixedly at that symbol of death. A rush of blood mounted to his forehead, swelling the veins, then as quickly died away, leaving him pallid.