"And I'll continue to insult you, _canaille_ that you are, all through that room," he cried, with a swift-flung gesture towards the brilliant doorway. "You are dealing with Aristide Pujol. Will you never understand? The letters and a confession for twenty-five thousand francs." "Never in life," said the Count, and he moved swiftly away. Aristide caught him by the collar as he stood on the covered terrace, a foot or two from the threshold of the gaming-room. "I swear to you, I'll make a scandal that you won't survive." The Count stopped and pushed Aristide's hand away. "I admit nothing," said he. "But you are a gambler and so am I. I will play you for those documents against twenty-five thousand francs." "Eh?" said Aristide, staggered for the moment. The Comte de Lussigny repeated his proposition. "_Bon_," said Aristide. "_Trés bon. C'est entendu. C'est fait._" If Beelzebub had arisen and offered to play beggar-my-neighbour for his soul, Aristide would have agreed; especially after the large whisky and soda and the Mumm Cordon Rouge and the Napoleon brandy which Eugene Miller had insisted on his drinking at dinner. "I have a large room at the hotel," said he. "I will join you," said the Count. "Monsieur," he took off his hat very politely. "Go first. I will be there in three minutes." Aristide trod on air during the two minutes' walk to the Hôtel de l'Europe. At the bureau he ordered a couple of packs of cards and a supply of drinks and went to his palatial room on the ground floor. In a few moments the Comte de Lussigny appeared. Aristide offered him a two francs corona which was ceremoniously accepted. Then he tore the wrapping off one of the packs of cards and shuffled. "Monsieur," said he, still shuffling. "I should like to deal two hands at ecarté. It signifies nothing. It is an experiment. Will you cut?" "_Volontiers_," said the Count. Aristide took up the pack, dealt three cards to the Count, three cards to himself, two cards to the Count, two to himself and turned up the King of Hearts as the eleventh card. "Monsieur," said he, "expose your hand and I will expose mine." Both men threw their hands face uppermost on the table. Aristide's was full of trumps, the Count's of valueless cards. He looked at his adversary with his roguish, triumphant smile. The Count looked at him darkly. "The ordinary card player does not know how to deal like that," he said with sinister significance. "But I am not ordinary in anything, my dear sir," laughed Aristide, in his large boastfulness. "If I were, do you think I would have agreed to your absurd proposal? _Voyons_, I only wanted to show you that in dealing cards I am your equal. Now, the letters----" The Count threw a small packet on the table. "You will permit me? I do not wish to read them. I verify only. Good," said he. "And the confession?"