He stopped on the edge of the pavement, trying to read on the high enameled plate, the name of the street--rue d'Ams ... rue d'Amsterdam--which he had forgotten. His head was heavy, his tongue pasty and he longed to resume his sleep. "I might go and see Cyprien," he thought, stiffening himself against slumber. He called a cab. But when he reached the house in the rue d'Assas, Uncle Cyprien had gone out on his tricycle. "Not three minutes ago," the concierge assured him. In fact, two hundred meters away, in the rue de Fleurus, Cyprien was at that very moment stopping before the house where Johan Schleifmann lived. He put his tricycle--his "beast" as he would have said--under the arch and asked the concierge to keep an eye on it; then he began to climb the stairs. "Have you come to fetch me for lunch, my friend?" Schleifmann asked, when he had opened the door to him. "One minute, please! I'll put my frockcoat on and go with you!" They walked into the study, a light, spacious, garret, the red tiles of which were half covered with two straw mats. M. Raindal the younger's expression was both amused and ceremonious. He sat in an old armchair and declared, as, with a stage gesture, he took off his wide, brown sombrero: "No, my friend, I have not come to fetch you.... I have come to talk to you...." "What has happened?" asked Schleifmann. "This has happened, my dear fellow, that ... that I am presenting to you a man who is done for, absolutely done for!" And he added, while the Galician lifted his arms in a gesture of surprise. "Yes, Schleifmann! I have gambled in gold mines and I have lost...." "I was sure of it!" the Galician exclaimed, stamping angrily on the red tiles. "How much have you lost?" "One hundred and ten thousand francs, my dear friend!... Yes, there is no need for you to open your eyes so wide.... I said it: one hundred and ten thousand francs!... At the last settlement, on the 15th, I had only lost fifty thousand francs.... Thanks to the help of M. de Meuze, who had written to his friend M. Pums, the father of your pupil, I made arrangements with Talloire, my stockbroker--for I have a stockbroker, is it comical enough, eh! I, a stockbroker!--I made arrangements with Talloire, I say, for him to carry me over; in other words, an operation which allowed me a delay for settling up and permitted me to gamble again.... You know?... Good!... I gambled again.... The smash came, more terrible than ever, organized by the whole Black Band.... I was stubborn; I gave orders right and left.... Result: sixty thousand francs added to my losses!" "Oh, my poor Raindal, my poor friend!" the Galician murmured, shaking his head.