A Fool and His Money Part 33

I arose. "The gist of the matter is this: you want to borrow one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of me. That is--"

He hastened to correct me. "I do not call it borrowing when one gives ample security for the amount involved."

"What is your idea of borrowing, may I ask?"

"Borrowing is the same thing as asking a favour according to our conception of the transaction. I am not asking a favour of you, sir.

Far from it. I am offering you an opportunity to put a certain amount of money out at a high rate of interest."

"Well, then, we'll look at it in that light. I am not in a position to invest so much money at this time. To be perfectly frank with you, I haven't the money lying loose."

"Suppose that I were to say that any day inside the next three or four weeks would be satisfactory to me," said he, as if he were granting me a favour. "Please be seated, Mr. Smart." He glanced at his watch.

"I have ordered a light supper to be sent up at ten o'clock. We can--"

"Thank you. I fear it is impossible for me to remain."

"I shall be disappointed. However, another time if not to-night, I trust. And now to come to the point. May I depend upon you to help me at this trying period? A few thousand will be sufficient for present needs, and the balance may go over a few weeks without seriously inconveniencing me. If we can come to some sort of an understanding to-night, my attorney will be happy to meet you to-morrow at any time and place you may suggest."

I actually was staggered. Upon my word it was almost as if he were dunning me and magnanimously consenting to give me an extension of time if I could see my way clear to let him have something on account.

My choler was rising.

"I may as well tell you first as last, Count Tarnowsy, that I cannot let you have the money. It is quite impossible. In the first place, I haven't the amount to spare; in the second--"

"Enough, sir," he broke in angrily. "I have committed the common error of regarding one of you as a gentleman. d.a.m.n me, if I shall ever do so again. There isn't one in the whole of the United States. Will you be good enough, Mr. Smart, to overlook my mistake? I thank you for taking the trouble to rush into print in my defence. If you have gained anything by it, I do not begrudge you the satisfaction you must feel in being heralded as the host of Count Tarnowsy and his friend. You obtained the privilege very cheaply."

"You will do well, sir, to keep a civil tongue in your head," said I, paling with fury.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Mr. Smart," said he contemptuously.

"Good night. Francois! Conduct Mr. Smart to the corridor."

Francois--or "Franko" as Britton, whose French is very lame, had called him--preceded me to the door. In all my experience, nothing has surprised me so much as my ability to leave the room without first kicking Francois' master, or at least telling him what I thought of him. Strangely enough I did not recover my sense of speech until I was well out into the corridor. Then I deliberately took a gold coin out of my pocket and pressed it into the valet's hand.

"Kindly give that to your master with my compliments," said I, in a voice that was intended to reach Tarnowsy's ear.

"Bon soir, m'sieu," said Francois, with an amiable grin. He watched me descend the stairs and then softly closed the door.

In the office I came upon Mr. Schymansky.

"I trust everything is satisfactorily arranged, Mr.--" he began smiling and rubbing his hands. He was so utterly unprepared for the severity of the interruption that the smile was still in process of congealing as I stepped out into the narrow, illy-lighted street.

Max and Rudolph were waiting at the wharf for me. Their excellent arms and broad backs soon drove the light boat across the river. But once during the five or ten minutes of pa.s.sage did I utter a word, and that word, while wholly involuntary and by no means addressed to my oarsmen, had the remarkable effect of making them row like fury for the remainder of the distance.

Mr. p.o.o.pend.y.k.e was waiting for me in the courtyard. He was carrying a lantern, which he held rather close to my face as if looking for something he dreaded to see.

"What the devil is the matter with you?" I demanded irascibly. "What's up? What are you doing out here with a lantern?"

"I was rather anxious," he said, a note of relief in his voice. "I feared that something unexpected might have befallen you. Five minutes ago the--Mr. Pless called up on the telephone and left a message for you. It rather upset me, sir."

"He did, eh? Well, what did he say?"

"He merely commanded me to give you his compliments and to tell you to go to the devil. I told him that you would doubtless be at home a little later on and it would sound very much better if it came from him instead of from me. Whereupon he told me to accompany you, giving rather explicit directions. He appeared to be in a tremendous rage."

I laughed heartily. "I must have got under his confounded skin after all."

"I was a little worried, so I came out with the lantern. One never can tell. Did you come to blows?"

"Blows? What puts that idea into your head?"

"The Countess was listening on the extension wire while he was speaking to me. She thought it was you calling up and was eager to hear what had happened. It was she who put it into my head. She said you must have given his nose a jolly good pulling or something of the sort. I am extremely sorry, but she heard every word he said, even to the mildest d.a.m.n."

"It must have had a very familiar sound to her," I said sourly.

"So she informed me."

"Oh, you've seen her, eh?"

"She came down to the secret door a few minutes ago and urged me to set out to meet you. She says she can hardly wait for the news. I was to send you upstairs at once."

Confound him, he took that very instant to hold the lantern up to my face again, and caught me grinning like a Ches.h.i.+re cat.

I hurried to my room and brushed myself up a bit. On my bureau, in a gla.s.s of water, there was a white boutonniere, rather clumsily constructed and all ready to be pinned in the lapel of my coat. I confess to a blush. I wish Britton would not be so infernally arduous in his efforts to please me.

The Countess gave a little sigh of relief when I dashed in upon her a few minutes later. She had it all out of me before I had quite recovered my breath after the climb upstairs.

"And so it was I who spent all the money," she mused, with a far-away look in her eyes.

"In trying to be a countess," said I boldly.

She smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"Delightfully," said I.

We sat down at the table. "Now tell me everything all over again," she said.

CHAPTER XII

I AM INFORMED THAT I AM IN LOVE

Mr. p.o.o.pend.y.k.e began to develop a streak of romantic invention--in fact, tomfoolery--A day or two after my experience with Count Tarnowsy in the Rempf Hotel. He is the last person in the world of whom I--or any one else--would suspect silliness of a radical nature.

We were finding it rather difficult to get down to actual, serious work on the book. The plot and the synopsis, of course, were quite completely outlined; with ordinary intensity of purpose on my part the tale might have galloped through the introductory chapters with some clarity and decisiveness. But for some reason I lacked the power of concentration, or perhaps more properly speaking the power of initiative. I laid it to the hub-bub created by the final effort of the workmen to finish the job of repairing my castle before cold weather set in.

"That isn't it, Mr. Smart," said my secretary darkly. We were in the study and my pad of paper was lying idly on my knees. For half an hour I had been trying to think of a handy sentence with which to open the story; the kind of sentence that catches the unwary reader's attention at a glance and makes for interest.

"What is it, then?" I demanded, at once resenting an opinion.

He smiled mysteriously. "You were not thinking of the workmen just now, were you?"