“If I don’t raise that difficulty,” said Van Arlen indifferently, “I see no reason why you should.”
“Yes, you see—but you are mortal like the rest of us; you might have to retire, or be put on half-pay—excuse my suggesting such things, but they’re all possible.”
“You’re not lending money to me, but to Mr Van Teuten; if anything of the sort were to happen, he would find you a new security.”
At last the matter was settled, at an interest of seven and a half per cent. The money-lender produced the twelve hundred guilders, and carried off the bill, duly stamped, and signed by Van Arlen and Van Teuten.
When the man with the handwriting was once more alone with his chief, the latter said, “Two hundred guilders are all you want for the present; I’ll keep the rest for you, in case you should get into difficulties again. Never mind about the interest—I’ll pay that.”
Van Teuten was fairly dazzled by such liberality. There must be something behind it—probably the State secret.
The news went like wildfire through the department how that unlucky devil of a Van Teuten had been set on his legs again by Van Arlen! Zuigman knew what to think of it—_he_ had seen documents; but he never spoke, and that his colleagues knew right well.
Talm, too, had his say on the subject,—Talm, who had introduced the millionaire, and had, yesterday evening, walked on the terrace at Scheveningen arm in arm with his chief’s wife. Further and further spread the fire, and every one made his conjectures. Van Teuten’s rescue remained the great event of the day.
It struck three, when Prigson was announced. Van Arlen was deep in his work.
“What zeal! But of course you want to leave the books in good order when you go!”
“I have made no definite agreement; but, in so far as I have made any promise to join you, I withdraw it.”
“What the deuce! Van Arlen, aren’t you right in your head?”
“On the contrary, I have come to my senses. When one has been an honest man for thirty years, Prigson, one is thoroughly in love with honesty.”
“Especially the way it is appreciated! The reward of all your honesty will be, that you fall from the tree, like an over-ripe fruit, and lie there till somebody treads you flat.”
“That is a gymnastic feat I would rather leave to a Münchausen. But you’re mad, Van Arlen—the matter is getting into shape after all.”