Borgert planted himself squarely on his legs in front of the other and said with assumed gaiety:
“You see, my dear fellow, we all have our troubles. I have just about reached the end of my tether and should like to appoint you receiver of my assets.”
“The end of your tether?” retorted Leimann with agitation. “What do you mean by that? Do you mean in money matters?”
“You have guessed it. I must have money right now, a whole bagful of it, or else I’m done for.”
“Is it as bad as all that? Have new complications arisen? Why, you told me the last time that you were out of your troubles just now.”
“Yes, I did; but yesterday I made something of an investigation, and I found that there is no other way out my difficulties than by means of a gigantic loan. I should like, therefore, to speak openly to you about the matter, for I’m in hopes that there must be still ways and means to keep me above water.”
Leimann lowered his eyes, looked fixedly at the pattern of the Turkish rug, and rubbed reflectively his unshaven chin. Then he replied with a shrug:
“How much is it?”
“Twelve thousand marks I must have, and not a penny less, for I’ll have to make a clear track. I’m about badgered to death by these unceasing dunning letters and complaints in the courts.”
“Hm, and how did you think you were going to manage this matter?”