he was; but the students knew his
failings, among which stood prominently that of a forgetful borrower.
They would buy him drinks, clothes and food, if need be, but they would
not lend him a stiver. And he could not borrow from Stuler, whose law
was only to trust. Johann gambled, and wine always brought back the
mad fever for play. The night before he had lost rather heavily, and he
wanted to recover his losses. Rouge-et-noir had pinched him; he would be
revenged on the roulette. All day long combinations and numbers danced
before his eyes. He had devised several plans by which to raise money,
but these had fallen through. Suddenly he smiled, and beckoned to
Stuler.

"Stuler, how much will you advance me," he asked, "on a shotgun worth
one hundred crowns?"

"A shotgun worth one hundred crowns? Ten."

Johann made a negative gesture. "Fifty or none. You can sell it
for seventy-five in the morning. So could I, only I want the money
to-night."

"If you want wine--" began Stuler.

"I want money."

Stuler scratched his nose. "Bring the gun to me. If it is worth what you
say, I'll see what I can do."

"In an hour;" and Johann went out. A cold thin rain was falling, and a
dash of it in the face had a cooling effect. Somehow, the exhilaration
of the wine was gone, and his mood took a sullen turn. Money! he was
ever in need of money. He cursed his ill luck. He cursed the cause
of it--drink. But for drink he would not have been plain Johann Kopf,
brawler, outcast, spy, disowned by his family and all save those who
could use him. He remained standing in the doorway, brooding.

At last he drew his collar about his throat and struck off, a black
shadow in a bank of gray. When he reached that part of the street
opposite the Grand Hotel, he stopped and sought shelter under an awning.
The night patrol came clattering down the street. It passed quickly, and
soon all was still again. Johann stepped out and peered up and down. The
street was deserted. All the hotel windows were in gloom, save a feeble
light which beamed from the office windows.

Would it be robbery? He had not yet stooped to that. But he could hear
the ivory ball clatter as it fell into the lucky numbers. He had a
premonition that he would win if he stuck to a single combination. He
would redeem the gun, replace it, and no one would be any the wiser.
If his numbers failed him..... No matter. He determined to cross the
Rubicon. He traversed the street and disapp