The old banker remembered all this, and thought: "Tomorrow at twelve o'clock he regains his freedom. By the agreement I shall have to pay him two million. If I pay, it is all over with me: I am ruined forever." Fifteen years before, he had had more millions than he could count; but now he was afraid to ask himself which were greater, his debts or his property. Reckless gambling on the stock exchange and wild speculation had brought him low, and the proud, fearless banker had become an ordinary man, trembling at every rise and fall in his fortune. "That cursed bet," murmured 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, marry, enjoy life, and I shall look on like an envious beggar. There is only one escape — his death." It was three o'clock in the morning. Everyone was asleep, and nothing could be heard but the trees outside. Trying to make no sound, the banker took from his safe the key of the door that had not been opened for fifteen years, put on his overcoat, and went out of the house.