“Now you take the bank,” Christian proposed. He was secretly pleased that his ruse was working so well.
He bet ten talers and lost. Then fifteen, then twenty, then thirty, and lost again. He risked a hundred marks, two hundred, five hundred, more and more, and still lost. Voss’s cheeks turned hectic red, then white as chalk: his hands trembled, his teeth rattled. He was seized by a terror that his luck would change, but he was incapable of speech or of asking for an end of the game. The bank notes were piled up in front of him. In half an hour he had won over four thousand marks.
Christian had previously marked the cards in a manner that no inexperienced eye could detect. He knew exactly which colour Voss would find. But the curious thing was that, though he forgot occasionally to watch the markings, Voss still won.
Christian got up. “We’re in a hurry,” he said. “You must get ready for our journey, Amadeus.”
Voss was overwhelmed by the change which had come over his life within a few minutes. If a spark of suspicion glowed in his soul, he turned away from it, and plunged into rich dreams.
The motor took them to Wiesbaden, and there, with Christian’s help, Amadeus bought garments and linen, boots, hats, gloves, cravats, a razor, a manicure set, and a trunk.
At ten o’clock that evening they sat in the sleeper. “Who am I now?” asked Amadeus Voss. He looked about him with a curious and violent glance, and pushed the blond hair from his forehead. “What do I represent now? Give me an office and a title, Christian Wahnschaffe, in order that I may know who I am.”
Christian watched the other’s excitement with quiet eyes. “Why should you think yourself another to-night or changed from yesterday?” he asked in surprise.