n; or, stay, it is dark
enough, I will go for it myself."

"How much does it cost?"

"Two dollars."

"That is a good deal, but 'tis all one; here they are;" and he threw
them on the table.

"All right," said Hippus, snatching at them. "But this alone will not
do, I must have my percentage. However, as we are old acquaintances, I
will be satisfied with only five per cent. of what you have made
to-day."

Veitel stood petrified.

"Not a word against it," continued Hippus, with a wicked glance at him
over his spectacles; "we know each other. I was the means of your
getting the money, and I alone. You make use of me, and you see that I
can make use of you. Give me four hundred of your eight thousand at
once."

Veitel tried to speak.

"Not a word," repeated Hippus, rapping the table with the dollars in his
hand; "give me the money."

Veitel looked at him, felt in the pocket of his coat, and laid down two
notes.

"Now two more," said Hippus, in the same tone. Veitel added another.

"And now for the last, my son," nodded he, encouragingly.

Veitel delayed a moment and looked hard at the old man's face, on which
a malevolent pleasure was visible. There was no comfort there, however;
so he laid down the fourth note, saying, in a stifled voice, "I have
been mistaken in you, Hippus;" and, turning away, he wiped his eyes.

"Do not take it to heart, you booby," said his instructor; "if I die
before you, you shall be my heir. And now I am off to taste the wine,
and I will make a point of drinking your health, you sensitive Itzig;"
and, so saying, he crept out of the door.

Veitel once more wiped away a bitter tear that rolled down his cheeks.
His pleasure in his winnings was gone. It was a complex sort of feeling,
this grief of his. True, he mourned the lost notes, but he had lost
something more. The only man in the world for whom he felt any degree of
attachment had behaved unkindly and selfishly toward him. It was all
over henceforth between him and Hippus. He could not, indeed, do without
him, but he hated him from this hour. The old man had made him more
solitary and unscrupulous than before. Such is the curse of bad men;
they are rendered wretched not only by their crimes, but even their best
feelings turn to gall.

However, this melancholy mood did not long continue. He took out his
remaining treasure, counted it over, felt cheered thereby, and turned
his thoughts to the future. His social position had been