Chapter 8

With a quiet and drowsy movement Basch pushed the notes lying on the oval in front of him over to the stranger. He grabbed at them like a bird of prey. The loser sank back in his seat, and in the same slow and dreamy way he brought out a fresh thousand-mark note and laid it in front of him. “How much are you losing now?” said a lady from the divan behind Basch. “You will have a lucky life. When one loses to _that_ extent! I regard you as a champion. You must establish a record.... In losing, you know! Then you will…