d, turning, took up
his cloak and sword. "The trap was well laid, M. le Capitaine," he said
almost jovially; "but I am still sober enough to take care of
myself--and of Lusigny. I wish you good night. You shall have your
money, do not fear."

"Still, I am afraid it will cost you dearly," the Captain answered, as
he rose and moved towards the door to open it for his guest. And then,
when his hand was already on the latch, he paused. "My lord," he said,
"what do you say to this, then? I will stake the two thousand crowns you
have lost to me, and another thousand to boot--against your town. Oh, no
one can hear us. If you win you go off a free man with my thousand. If
you lose, you put me in possession--one of these fine nights. Now, that
is an offer. What do you say to it? A single game to decide."

The younger man's face reddened. He turned; his eyes sought the table
and the cards; he stood irresolute. The temptation came at an
unfortunate moment; a moment when the excitement of play had given way
to depression, and he saw nothing outside the door, on the latch of
which his hand was laid, but the bleak reality of ruin. The temptation
to return, the thought that by a single hand he might set himself right
with the world, was too much for him. Slowly--he came back to the table.
"Confound you!" he said passionately. "I think you are the devil
himself!"

"Don't talk child's talk!" the other answered coldly, drawing back as
his victim advanced. "If you do not like the offer you need not take
it."

But the young man was a born gambler, and his fingers had already closed
on the cards. Picking them up idly he dropped them once, twice, thrice
on the table, his eyes gleaming with the play-fever. "If I win?" he said
doubtfully. "What then? Let us have it quite clearly."

"You carry away a thousand crowns," the Captain answered quietly. "If
you lose you contrive to leave one of the gates of Lusigny open for me
before next full moon. That is all."

"And what if I lose, and do not pay the forfeit?" the Vicomte asked,
laughing weakly.

"I trust to your honour," the Captain answered. And, strange as it may
seem, he knew his man. The young noble of the day might betray his cause
and his trust, but the debt of honour incurred at play was binding on
him.

"Well," said the Vicomte, with a deep breath, "I agree. Who is to deal?"

"As you will," the Captain replied, masking under an appearance of
indifference the excitement which d