.

The Comte de Lussigny repeated his proposition.

"_Bon_," said Aristide. "_Tres 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 Hotel 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 ecarte. 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?"

"What you like," said the Count, coldly. Aristide scribbled a few lines
that would have been devastating to the character of a Hyrcanean tiger
and handed the paper and fountain pen to the Count.

"Will you sign?"

The Count glanced at the words and signed.

"_Voila_," said Aristide, laying Mrs. Errington's cheque beside the
documents. "Now let u