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. I shan't tell you any more, Marechal."
"Oh, how can it hurt, Monsieur le Comte, at this time o' day?" rejoined
the other with the humble smile befitting an accomplice. "I had to
attract the people so as to lay your two thousand louis."
At this Vandeuvres silenced him. But as he was going off Marechal
remembered something and was sorry he had not questioned him about the
shortening of the odds on the filly. It would be a nice business for him
if the filly stood a chance, seeing that he had just laid fifty to one
about her in two hundreds.
Nana, though she did not understand a word of what the count was
whispering, dared not, however, ask for new explanations.
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