The cards were dealt, the banker exposed a nine, the highest number, and the croupier's flat spoon swept the table.
A murmur arose.

The banker was having the luck of Satan.
"He always protects me, the good fellow," laughed the banker, who had overheard the remark.
Again we staked, again the hands were dealt.

Our tableau or end of the table won, the other lost.

The croupier threw the coins in payment.

I let my double stake lie, and so did Anastasius.