Chaumont let out a gasp. The monstrous significance of this dawned on me suddenly.
Bencolin went on: 'If the card which you draw for me is higher than your own, you shall lock up that cyanide and wait for the arrival of the police. Then - the horrors of the trial, the mud, the scandal, and the guillotine. But if your card is the higher, you shall drink the cyanide. And I swear on my oath that no single word of this whole affair shall ever become known. ... You were a gambler before. Colonel. Do you dare to be one now? ... Remember, as I say, that I take your word. Not a living soul will ever know the cards you draw.'
For a long time there was no reply. The little nickelled telephone hung there in Bencolin's hand, become now a terrible thing. I pictured the old man in his dusky library, his bald head gleaming in the lamplight, his tight jaw buried in his collar, and the shaggy-hung eyes staring at the bottle of cyanide.... The tin clock ticked steadily....
'Very well, monsieur,' the voice said. You could sense a breaking-point close at hand. The voice became dry, hardly audible: 'Very well, monsieur. I will accept your challenge. A moment until I get the cards.'
Marie Augustin breathed, 'You devil! ... You're — '
She was clasping her hands together. All of a sudden her father let out a sort of giggling laugh which was horrible. His red eyes goggled with admiration, and you could hear the joints crack in his fingers as he rubbed his hands together. His head continued its bobbing; he seemed to be nodding in appreciation. .. .
More dragging ticks of the clock, another coal that rattled in the fireplace, and the distant cry of an auto horn. .. .
‘I am ready, monsieur,' the voice from the telephone squeaked, loudly and clearly.
'You shall draw, then, for me - and think what it means.5
(Gardens of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, rustling tattered leaves in the night. The gleaming backs of the cards, and a hand fumbling at them.)
I almost jumped out of a crawling skin when the voice announced:
'Your card, monsieur, is the five of diamonds.'
'Ah,' said Bencolin, 'not very high, Colonel! It should be easy to beat that. So very easy. And now think of all I have told you, and draw for yourself.'
His half-closed eyes travelled up mockingly to mine. ...
Tick-tick, tick-tick, terrible little tin blows on the silence. Gears of a car screamed and whizzed past the windows; Augustin cracked the joints of his fingers....
'Well, Colonel?' asked the detective, raising his voice slightly.
There was a rasp in the telephone. Chaumont whirled with a pale face.
'My card, monsieur —'
The squeaky voice faltered. You could hear a gasp. ... Then there was a little tremble, as of breath through lips curled in a smile; and a small crash of glass dropped on hardwood.
The voice, clear and firm and courteous, rang out: 'My card, monsieur, is the three of spades. I shall await the arrival of the police.'
the end