ested a man swimming in the sea among the
wreckage of his ship, and trying to save his life by greedily clutching
first at one spar and then at another.

II

The old banker remembered all this, and thought:

"To-morrow at twelve o'clock he will regain his freedom. By our
agreement I ought to pay him two millions. If I do pay him, it is all
over with me: I shall be utterly ruined."

Fifteen years before, his millions had been beyond his reckoning; now he
was afraid to ask himself which were greater, his debts or his assets.
Desperate gambling on the Stock Exchange, wild speculation and the
excitability which he could not get over even in advancing years, had
by degrees led to the decline of his fortune and the proud, fearless,
self-confident millionaire had become a banker of middling rank,
trembling at every rise and fall in his investments. "Cursed bet!"
muttered the old man, clutching his head in despair "Why didn't the man
die? He is only forty now. He will take my last penny from me, he will
marry, will enjoy life, will gamble on the Exchange; while I shall look
at him with envy like a beggar, and hear from him every day the same
sentence: 'I am indebted to you for the happiness of my life, let
me help you!' No, it is too much! The one means of being saved from
bankruptcy and disgrace is the death of that man!"

It struck three o'clock, the banker listened; everyone was asleep in the
house and nothing could be heard outside but the rustling of the chilled
trees. Trying to make no noise, he took from a fireproof safe the key
of the door which had not been opened for fifteen years, put on his
overcoat, and went out of the house.

It was dark and cold in the garden. Rain was falling. A damp cutting
wind was racing about the garden, howling and giving the trees no rest.
The banker strained his eyes, but could see neither the earth nor the
white statues, nor the lodge, nor the trees. Going to the spot where the
lodge stood, he twice called the watchman. No answer followed. Evidently
the watchman had sought shelter from the weather, and was now asleep
somewhere either in the kitchen or in the greenhouse.

"If I had the pluck to carry out my intention," thought the old man,
"Suspicion would fall first upon the watchman."

He felt in the darkness for the steps and the door, and went into the
entry of the lodge. Then he groped his way into a little passage and
lighted a match. There was not a soul there. There was a