“Mr. Martin, this country is in a perilous condition.”
“Good God, your Excellency!” said I, “do you refer to the earthquake?” (There had been a slight shock a few days before.)
“No, sir,” he replied, “to the finances. The harbor works have proved far more expensive than I anticipated. I hold in my hand the engineer’s certificate that nine hundred and three thousand dollars have been actually expended on them, and they are not finished—not by any means finished.”
They certainly were not; they were hardly begun.
“Dear me,” I ventured to say, “that seems a good deal of money, considering what there is to show for it.”
“You cannot doubt the certificate, Mr. Martin,” said the President.
I did doubt the certificate, and should have liked to ask what fee the engineer had received. But I hastily said it was, of course, beyond suspicion.
“Yes,” said he steadily, “quite beyond suspicion. You see, Mr. Martin, in my position I am compelled to be liberal. The Government cannot set other employers the example of grinding men down by low wages. However, reasons apart, there is the fact. We cannot go on without more money; and I may tell you, in confidence, that the political situation makes it imperative we should go on. Not only is my personal honor pledged, but the Opposition, Mr. Martin, led by the colonel, is making itself obnoxious—yes, I may say very obnoxious.”
“The colonel, sir,” said I, with a freedom engendered of dining, “is a beast.”
“Well,” said the President, with a tolerant smile, “the colonel, unhappily for the country, is no true patriot. But he is powerful; he is rich; he is, under myself alone, in command of the army. And, moreover, I believe he stands well with the signorina. The situation, in fact, is desperate. I must have money, Mr. Martin. Will your directors make me a new loan?”