Captain König looked startled.
“But, my dear fellow, how can you suggest such a thing to me! You can’t expect me to touch the treasury.”
“I do not think it would matter the least bit, since the Herr Captain alone is responsible for that fund, and since this would practically mean nothing but the transferring of four hundred marks from the public fund in your own keeping to private funds of your own, to be made good by you, without anybody being the wiser within a week or so.”
“No, no, that would never do,” again said the other.
“But, Captain, you cannot leave me in the lurch. It would simply place me in a beastly predicament,” wailed Borgert, glancing appealingly at his brother officer.
König began to think, twirling his moustache. On the whole, he reflected, it might be a wise thing to place under an obligation this man with the dangerously bitter tongue. Borgert’s influence on the younger officers was not to be underestimated, he knew, and a refusal would turn him into an enemy. The money itself he had, locked up in a drawer of his desk at home; but if he made Borgert believe that he had to “borrow” it from the squadron funds,—whose custodian he was,—it might be expected that the lieutenant would not so soon ask for another loan, mindful of the great difficulties this present one was causing. It was as the result of these cogitations that König resolved to lend Borgert the sum he required, but to leave him in the belief that to do so it was necessary to touch the funds in his care.
“All right, then,” he said; “you shall have your money. When will you pay it back without fail?”
“Within ten days, Captain. I give you my word on it.”
“Very well, come to my office at noon, and you shall have it.”
“Accept my most grateful thanks, Herr Captain!”