On a table in the next room were lighted candles, cards, two dice-boxes, and dice.

“Gentlemen,” said Groslow, “I beg you will take your places.  I will sit facing Stuart, whom I like so much to see, especially where he now is, and you, Monsieur d’Artagnan, opposite to me.”

Athos turned red with rage.  D’Artagnan frowned at him.

“That’s it,” said D’Artagnan; “you, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, to the right of Monsieur Groslow.  You, Chevalier d’Herblay, to his left.  Du Vallon next me.  You’ll bet for me and those gentlemen for Monsieur Groslow.”

By this arrangement D’Artagnan could nudge Porthos with his knee and make signs with his eyes to Athos and Aramis.

At the names Comte de la Fere and Chevalier d’Herblay, Charles opened his eyes, and raising his noble head, in spite of himself, threw a glance at all the actors in the scene.

At that moment Parry turned over several leaves of his Bible and read with a loud voice this verse in Jeremiah: 

“God said, `Hear ye the words of the prophets my servants, whom I have sent unto you.’”

The four friends exchanged glances.  The words that Parry had read assured them that their presence was understood by the king and was assigned to its real motive.  D’Artagnan’s eyes sparkled with joy.

“You asked me just now if I was in funds,” said D’Artagnan, placing some twenty pistoles upon the table.  “Well, in my turn I advise you to keep a sharp lookout on your treasure, my dear Monsieur Groslow, for I can tell you we shall not leave this without robbing you of it.”

“Not without my defending it,” said Groslow.

“So much the better,” said D’Artagnan.  “Fight, my dear captain, fight.  You know or you don’t know, that that is what we ask of you.”

“Oh! yes,” said Groslow, bursting with his usual coarse laugh, “I know you Frenchmen want nothing but cuts and bruises.”

Charles had heard and understood it all.  A slight color mounted to his cheeks.  The soldiers then saw him stretch his limbs, little by little, and under the pretense of much heat throw off the Scotch plaid which covered him.

Athos and Aramis started with delight to find that the king was lying with his clothes on.

The game began.  The luck had turned, and Groslow, having won some hundred pistoles, was in the merriest possible humor.

Porthos, who had lost the fifty pistoles he had won the night before and thirty more besides, was very cross and questioned D’Artagnan with a nudge of the knee as to whether it would not soon be time to change the game.  Athos and Aramis looked at him inquiringly.  But D’Artagnan remained impassible.

It struck ten.  They heard the guard going its rounds.

“How many rounds do they make a night?” asked D’Artagnan, drawing more pistoles from his pocket.

“Five,” answered Groslow, “one every two hours.”