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Updated: May 7, 2025
Desperately he jested with old Metzeger, who was regretfully, it seemed, relinquishing his adored ledgers from Saturday noon until Monday morning. "Say, I want to borrow nineteen thousand eleven hundred and eighty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents until the sixteenth at seven minutes to eleven." Old Metzeger repeated the numbers accurately. He looked wistful, but he knew it was a jest.
Yes; but what about to-morrow out in the world? in daylight, passing the policeman on the corner, down at the office? Would he remain a king in the presence of Breede, even in the lesser presence of Bulger, or of old Metzeger from whom he purposed to borrow seventeen dollars and seventy-nine cents? All right about being a king, but how were other people to know it?
Metzeger, I want to borrow five dollars " The old man perceptibly stiffened and bent his head lower. " five dollars and eighty-seven cents until Saturday at ten minutes past twelve." Metzeger looked up, surveying him keenly from under the green shade. "How much? "Five eighty-seven." There was a curious relenting in the sharpened old face. The man had been struck in a vital spot.
At precisely ten minutes past twelve on the following Saturday he laid upon old Metzeger's desk the exact sum of five dollars and eighty-seven cents. One less gifted as to human nature would have said, "Thank you!" and laid down five dollars and ninety cents. Bean fell into neither trap. Metzeger looked quickly at the clock and silently took the money.
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