"When did I ever lend money on interest?" cried Leo, striking his forehead on which started great beads of anxious sweat.
And the further he proceeded the oftener, with uncanny regularity, did the sum stare him in the face. It invariably occurred at a convenient juncture to cover some heavy outlay, or to help meet a long-standing bill. It presided over the columns as a deux ex machinâ, a blessing and friend in need.
The one person who could have thrown light on the bewildering problem was Uncle Kutowski, who still made himself scarce.
"If he owns up," Leo concluded, "I will let him off lightly. If not, it will be life or death."
Towards five o'clock, the old gentleman's one-horse trap drew up at the bailiff's house. He was lying back in a corner, tight as a drum, sucking the end of his burnt-out cigar.
Old Christian, who on Leo's behalf had been on the look-out for him, helped him to alight, and informed him that the master wished to speak to him at once.
Herr Kutowski poured out a volley of abuse which echoed over the courtyard.
"What has the youngster taken into his head? Am I his shoe-black, that he should order me about like this? He had better be careful. I'll teach him who I am, and what I know."
Christian, greatly scandalized to avert a further outbreak, hurried off to tell his master of the steward's arrival. Fortunately no one had been near to overhear his disrespectful words.
Uncle Kutowski swaggered with jingling spurs into his apartments, to indulge in a well-earned siesta. He surveyed himself in the cracked shaving mirror, which satisfied the small demands of his vanity, and had a long conversation with himself, from which it might have been gathered that he wished to be regarded as the lawful possessor of Halewitz.