Now that he was trying his fortunes at race meetings on the strength of some mysteriously obtained capital, the count was doing his utmost to push him, confiding to him his secret bets and treating him on all occasions as a servant to whom one shows one's true character.

Yet despite this protection, the man had in rapid succession lost very heavy sums, and today he, too, was playing his last card.

There was blood in his eyes; he looked fit to drop with apoplexy.
"Well, Marechal," queried the count in the lowest of voices, "to what amount have you laid odds ?" "To five thousand louis, Monsieur le Comte," replied the bookmaker, likewise lowering his voice.

"A pretty job, eh?
I'll confess to you that I've increased the odds; I've made it three to one." Vandeuvres looked very much put out.
"No, no, I don't want you to do that.

Put it at two to one again directly.