Debit and Credit Part 17

As usual, Ehrenthal appeared just when wanted. His diamond breast-pin shone as usual, his obsequious compliments were as ludicrous as ever, and his admiration of the property as boundless. The baron took him all over the farm, and good-humoredly said, "You must give me some advice, Ehrenthal."

Only two or three years had pa.s.sed since a similar walk over this farm, and how the times had changed! Then, Ehrenthal had to insinuate his advice to the proud baron, and now the baron himself asked him for it.

In the lightest tone that he could a.s.sume, he went on to say, "I have had greater expenses than usual this year. Even the promissory notes do not yield enough, and I must therefore think of increasing my income.

What would you consider the best means of doing this?"

The usurer's eyes brightened; but he answered, with all due deference, "The baron must be a better judge of that than I can be."

"None of your bargains, however, Ehrenthal. I shall not enter into partnership with you again."

Ehrenthal replied, shaking his head, "There are not, indeed, many such bargains to be made, which I could conscientiously recommend. The baron has five-and-forty thousand dollars' worth of promissory notes. Why do you keep them when they pay so small an interest? If you were, instead, to buy a good mortgage at five per cent, you would pay four per cent to the Joint-stock Company, and one per cent. would be your own; in other words, a yearly addition of four hundred and fifty dollars. But you might make a better thing of them than that. There are many safe mortgages which are offered to sale for ready money, at a great profit to the purchaser. You might, perhaps, for forty thousand dollars, or even less, get a mortgage that would bring you in five per cent. on forty-five thousand dollars."

"I have thought of that," replied the baron; "but the security for such mortgages as these, which come into the hands of you brokers, is exceedingly poor, and I can not rely on it."

Ehrenthal waived off this reproach, and said, in a tone of virtuous indignation against all dealers in insecure mortgages, "For my own part, I am very shy of mortgages altogether, and such as are in the market are not fit for the baron, of course. You must apply to a trustworthy man; your own lawyer, for instance, may be able to procure you a good mortgage."

"Then you really know of none?" said the baron, secretly hoping that he did.

"I know of none," was the positive reply; "but if you wish, I can inquire; there are always some to be had. Your lawyer can tell you what he would consider good security; only you would have to pay down the sum total in case you procured it from him, whereas, if you could get one from a commercial man, you might make a profit of some thousands."

Now this profit was a most important point to the baron, and his mind was made up to realize it if possible. But he only said, "There is no hurry; should you hear of any thing desirable, you can let me know."

"I will do all I can," was the cautious reply; "but it will be well that the baron should also make inquiries himself, for I am not accustomed to deal in mortgages."

If this a.s.sertion were not strictly true, it was, at all events, politic, for the cool indifference of the tradesman increased the baron's confidence in him tenfold. The following day he went to town, and had a consultation with his lawyer, who strongly advised him to give up the idea of making any such profit as he contemplated, because such a mortgage would infallibly prove insecure. But this good advice only confirmed the baron in his intention of taking his own way in the matter.

A few days later, a tall stout man, with a shining red face, called upon the baron--a Mr. Pinkus, from the capital. He had heard, he said, that the baron wished to invest, and he knew of a remarkably safe and desirable mortgage, on a large property in the neighboring province, belonging to the rich Count Zaminsky, who lived abroad. This property had every possible advantage, including two thousand acres of magnificent natural wood. The mortgage was at present in Count Zaminsky's own hands. It was possible, Pinkus mysteriously hinted, to purchase it for ninety per cent.; in other words, for thirty-six thousand dollars. Certainly, it was a pity that the property lay in another province, where agriculturists had many primitive peculiarities.

But it was only six miles from the frontier--the neighboring town was on the high road--the estate was princely. In short, the drawbacks were so small, and the advantages so great, that Pinkus never could have made up his mind to let a stranger purchase it, had he not been such an example of human perfection as the baron.

The baron received the compliment in a dignified manner, and before his departure Pinkus laid down a heavy roll of parchment, that the question of the security might be carefully investigated.

Early the next morning the baron took the deeds to his man of business, and himself ascended the dirty staircase that led to the white door of Ehrenthal, who was overjoyed to hear of his visit--dressed himself with the utmost rapidity, and insisted upon the baron doing him the infinite honor of breakfasting with him. The baron was not cruel enough to refuse, and accordingly he was ushered into the state apartment, where the contrast between splendor and shabbiness amused him not a little, as did also that between the gorgeous attire of the beautiful Rosalie, and the sneaking, crouching manner of her father.

During breakfast the baron asked Ehrenthal whether he happened to know a Mr. Pinkus.

At this business-like inquiry Rosalie vanished, and her father sat bolt upright. "Yes, I do know him," said he; "he is in a very small way, but I believe him an upright man. He is in a very small way, and all his business is with Poland."

"Have you mentioned to him my wish to buy a mortgage?"

"How should I have thought of mentioning it to him? If he has offered you a mortgage, he must have heard of it from another dealer, of whom I did make inquiries. But Pinkus is in a small way; how can he procure a mortgage for you?" And Ehrenthal indicated by a gesture how small Pinkus was, and by a look upward how immeasurably great his guest.

The baron then told him all particulars, and asked about the property and circ.u.mstances of the count.

Ehrenthal knew nothing; but he bethought himself that there was then in town a respectable tradesman from that very district, and promised to have him sent to the baron, who soon after took his leave, Ehrenthal accompanying him down stairs, and saying, "Be cautious about the mortgage, baron; it is good money, and there are many bad mortgages. To be sure, there are good mortgages too; and, of course, people will say a good deal to recommend their own. As to Lobel Pinkus, he is in but a small way of business; but, so far as I know, a trustworthy man. All you tell me about the mortgage sounds well, I own; but I humbly entreat you, baron, to be cautious--very cautious."

The baron, not much enlightened by this worthy address, went to his town house, and impatiently awaited for the arrival of the stranger, who soon came. His name was Lowenberg, and his appearance was a sort of medley of that of Ehrenthal and Pinkus, only he was thinner. He gave himself out as a wine-merchant, and appeared intimately acquainted with the count and his property. He said that the present possessor was young, and lived abroad; that his father had been rather a bad manager; but that, though the estate was burdened, it was not in the very least endangered.

The land was not in high cultivation, therefore was susceptible of improvement, and he hoped the young count was the very man to see to it.

On the whole, his report was decidedly favorable; there was no exaggeration about it--all was sensible and straightforward. The baron's mind was very nearly made up, and he went off straightway to one of his acquaintance, who knew the Zaminsky family. He did not hear much from him certainly, but still it was rather favorable than otherwise. On the other hand, Ehrenthal called to inform him that the wool of the sheep of that district was seldom fine, and to beg that he would consult his lawyer before he decided.

Ehrenthal's little office was on the same floor as the rest of the apartments, and opened out upon the hall. It was evening before he returned to it, in a state of great excitement. Itzig, who had been sitting before a blank book, wearily waiting for his master, wondered what could be the matter, when Ehrenthal eagerly said to him, "Itzig, now is the time to show whether you deserve your wages, and the advantage of a Sabbath dinner in good society."

"What am I to do?" replied Veitel, rising.

"First, you are to tell Lobel Pinkus to come here, and then to get me a bottle of wine and two gla.s.ses. Next go and bring me word to whom in Rosmin, Councilor Horn, who lives near the market-place, has written to-day, or, if not to-day, to whom he writes to-morrow. In finding this out you may spend five dollars, and if you bring me back word this evening you shall have a ducat for yourself."

Veitel felt a glow of delight, but replied calmly, "I know none of Councilor Horn's clerks, and must have some time to become acquainted with them."

He ordered the bottle of wine, and ran off into the street like a dog in scent of game.

Meanwhile Ehrenthal, his hat still on, his hands behind his back, walked up and down, nodding his head, and looking in the twilight like an ugly ghost who once has had his head cut off and can not now keep it steadily on.

As Veitel went on his way, his mind kept working much as follows: "What can be in the wind? It must be an important affair, and I am to know nothing about it! I am to send Pinkus. Pinkus was with Ehrenthal a few days ago, and the next morning he went to Baron Rothsattel's place in the country; so it must have something to do with the baron. And now, as to these letters. If I could catch the clerk who takes them to the post, and contrive to read the directions, I should save money. But how manage this? Well, I must find out some way or other." And, accordingly, Veitel posted himself at the door, and soon saw a young man rush out with a packet of letters in his hand. He followed him, and, turning sharply round a corner, contrived to meet him. Touching his hat, "You are from Councilor Horn's office?"

"Yes," said the clerk, in a hurry to get on.

"I am from the country, and have been waiting for three days for an important letter from the councilor; perhaps you may have one for me."

"What is your name?" said the clerk, looking at him mistrustfully.

"Bernhard Madgeburg, of Ostrau," said Veitel; "but the letter may be addressed to my uncle."

"There is no letter for you," replied the clerk, hurriedly glancing at the directions.

Do what he would, Veitel's eyes could not follow this rapid shuffling, so he seized the packet, and while the enraged official, catching hold of him, exclaimed, "What are you about, man! how dare you?" he devoured the directions, gave back the letters, and touching his hat, coolly said, "Nothing for me; do not lose the post; I am going to the councilor," turned on his heel and made his escape.

Spite of this bold stroke, he could only remember two or three of the addresses. "Perhaps I have made my money," thought he; "and if not, there's no time lost." So he went back, and, creeping to the office door, stood and listened. The worthy Pinkus was speaking, but very low, and Veitel could make little of it. At last, however, the voices grew louder.

"How can you ask such a large sum!" cried Ehrenthal, angrily; "I have been mistaken in thinking you a trustworthy man."

"I am trustworthy," replied Pinkus; "but I must have four hundred dollars, or this affair will fall through."

"How dare you say it will fall through? What do you know about it?"

"I know this much, that I can get four hundred dollars from the baron by telling him what I know," screamed Pinkus.

"You are a rascal! You are a traitor! Do you know who it is that you use thus? I can ruin your credit, and disgrace you in the eyes of all men of business."

"And I can show the baron what sort of a man you are," cried Pinkus, with equal vehemence.

At this the door opened, and Veitel plunged into the shadow of the staircase.

"I will give you till to-morrow to consider," were Pinkus's parting words.

Veitel coolly stepped into the office, and his patron hardly noticed him. He was pacing up and down the little room, like a wild beast in its cage, and exclaiming, "Just heavens! that this Pinkus should turn out such a traitor! He will blab the whole matter; he will ruin me!"

"Why should he ruin you?" asked Veitel, throwing his hat on the desk.

"What are you doing here? What have you overheard?"