"He came as near failure as could possibly be, last week."
"He did?"
"Yes."
"And how did he get through?"
"It is the answer to that question which I wish you to consider. He was saved from ruin in the last extremity, and by what some would call a desperate expedient. Your case is a desperate one, and, if you would save yourself, you must resort to desperate expedients, likewise."
"Name the expedient."
"Hardville had one thousand dollars to pay, more than he could possibly raise. He tried everywhere, but to no purpose. He could neither borrow nor collect that sum. In a moment of desperation, he put one hundred dollars into his pocket, and went to a regular establishment near here, and staked that sum at play. In two hours he came away with twelve hundred dollars in his pocket, instead of one hundred. And thus he was saved from ruin."
When Arnold ceased speaking, Wilmer looked him in the face with a steady, stern, half-angry look, but made no reply.
"Try another glass of this brandy," the former said, pouring out a pretty liberal supply for each. Mechanically, Wilmer put the glass to his lips, and turned off the contents.
"Well, what do you think of that plan?" asked the friend, after each had sat musing for some time.