"Le Mire is a child of fortune, but not of
hell!"
At last she spoke.
"I play a fair hand, monsieur!" she cried, and her voice
trembled.
"With marked cards!" I exclaimed scornfully. "The advantage is
yours, madame; may you find pleasure in it."
There was a silence, while our eyes met. I thought I had lost.
Le Mire stood motionless. Not a sound came from the audience. I
felt Harry pulling at my arm, but shook myself free, without
taking my eyes from Le Mire's face.
Suddenly she spoke:
"You are right, my friend Paul. I take no advantage. Leave it
to Fortune. Have you a coin?"
I had won my chance. That was all--a chance--but that was better
than nothing. I took a silver peseta from my pocket--by luck it
had not been lost--and held it in the air above my head.
"Heads!" cried Desiree.
I let the coin fall. It rolled half-way across the top of the
column and stopped at the very edge. I crossed and stooped over
it. It lay heads up!
Harry was behind me; as I straightened up I saw his white, set
face and eyes of horror. He, too, had seen the verdict; but he
was moved not by that, but by the thought of Desiree, for Harry
was not a man to flinch at sight of death.
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