“But these two used to get along so well together!”
“Of course! And I presume there must be some truth to the story, else the colonel would probably have managed the thing otherwise, especially as he himself is in disfavor with the powers that be. This new affair will break his neck.”
“Well, as for me,” said Schönemann, “I don’t believe in the story until I see it in print. König is not at all that sort of fellow. And the colonel always flies off the handle and seems to be glad when he has a chance of showing his authority. He thinks that is smart!”
“Oh, I don’t know, and what’s more, I don’t care.”
The explanation of all this conversation is a very simple one. We remember that First Lieutenant Borgert, before seeking fresh fields for his energy, had made up his mind to get even with Captain König for that curt letter in which the captain had refused to accede to Leimann’s request for another large loan.
Misled by the captain’s own words on a previous occasion of similar kind, he had taken it for granted that König had really been guilty of diverting some of the moneys under his care to oblige a needy comrade,—Borgert himself. In his vindictiveness he had spared no pains in the course of his conversations with fellow-officers at the Casino to spread rumors as to this alleged fact, magnifying the matter or distorting its details, as it suited his purpose; and even after Borgert’s flight these rumors had been scattered broadcast by the idle tongue of gossip. Finally, they had filtered down and become the theme of general conversation. The colonel, too, had heard of the matter, and, in his present condition of extreme nervousness regarding the reputation of the regiment, that worthy had deemed it his duty to go to the root of it.
König himself had had no occasion to clear himself of all this gathering suspicion, for in his presence the wagging tongues became mute. Borgert had maliciously misrepresented König so much in his talks with the junior officers as to create quite a strong feeling against him. He had stated that König, although abundantly able to help some momentarily embarrassed comrades out of their troubles, had not only refused point-blank, but had added insult to injury. Such supposed behavior, since Borgert’s tales had found credence, had cost König the sympathy of the majority of the officers, and now that trouble had overtaken him, many of them rejoiced at the fact. Lieutenant Bleibtreu would have informed his squadron chief of the unpleasant rumors circulating, but ill luck would have it that that faithful junior happened to be off on leave of absence. He did not correspond with any of his fellow-officers during his leave, and knew nothing of the matter until after König’s arrest.
It was only by furnishing an extravagantly high amount of bail that König temporarily regained his liberty, having spent some ten days in jail meanwhile. By the colonel’s order he was then suspended from active duty and compelled to await the outcome of the accusation in his own home. At first König was stunned by the blow. After fifteen years of active service, during which he had never been charged with anything contrary to good morals or manners, he was now accused of a vulgar crime! And what was worse, the accusation against him was entirely based on the irresponsible remarks of a man who was a moral wreck at the time he made them, and who had since been legally condemned as a convicted criminal. It was nothing less than an outrage, it seemed to him.
Where was the confidence, the good comradeship, with which he had formerly met on all sides? Was it not the duty of his superior, the colonel, first closely to investigate the circumstances surrounding an alleged fact which on its face seemed highly improbable, before formulating such an accusation likely to ruin his reputation in the whole regiment and in the entire army?