"Yet you had better count for yourself. That is right. And now I will tell you my idea, which is so unusual and so dramatic that I rather pride myself upon it. I throw these ivory discs into my helmet and cover them with a handkerchief--so. And I ask you, if you are a man of courage, to raise one corner of the handkerchief and take out a single counter. If it be a white one--as is almost certain to be the case--I hand you the papers in my possession and I wish you good-night, enjoyment of your hoarded gold, and happiness with Rachel. But if it be the solitary red one--and that is extremely unlikely--then--then--if it be the red one, I say----" The cuirassier broke off and regarded the other steadily. Mansart had turned livid. "Go on," he said, in a shaking voice; "why do you stop? If I should draw the red one--what then?" Vétérin shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "In that case I should ask you to fight with me." "Ah! you would murder me!" said Simon, recoiling. "Pardon, I have _two_ pistols here. It would be fair fighting." "It is horrible, monstrous! I will not listen to you." "Almost as terrible as wedding a maid whose soul has been given to another; almost as monstrous as coming eternally between two hearts that beat for each other," was the stern response. "I tell you that I will not hear of it," repeated Mansart, frantically. "Then you will be a great fool. I wish I stood in your shoes. The chances of life are twelve; of death, one. And even then it will be fair fighting--though, by my sword, I shall do my best to kill you. Consider. But a moment separates you from your wealth. Come, it might have been over and forgotten by now." "Monsieur, if you are a gentleman, if you entertain toward me no sinister intent, you will leave my house at once." "Very well, I will go," said Vétérin, and he moved toward the door. He opened it and was about to pass out when the querulous voice of Simon called to him again. "Well?" "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! [Illustration: "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. "Ah!" said Vétérin, "how unfortunate for you!"