Others had put
off the payment; for there were many Jews, then as now, in Dantzig;
slow payers requiring something stronger than a threat to make them
disburse.
De Casimir therefore quitted the Rathhaus among the first to go, and
walked through the busy streets to his rooms in the Langenmarkt,
where he not only lived but had a small office to which orderlies
and aides-de-camp came by day or night. Two sentries kept guard on
the pavement. Since the spring, this office had been one of the
busiest military posts in Dantzig. Its doors were open at all
hours, and in truth many of de Casimir's assistants preferred to
transact their business in the dark.
There might be some recalcitrant debtor driven by stress of
circumstance to clear his conscience to-night. It would be as well,
de Casimir thought, to be at one's post. Nor was he mistaken.
Though it was only ten o'clock, two men were awaiting his return,
and, their business despatched, de Casimir deemed it wise to send
away his assistants. Immediately after they had gone a woman came.
She was half distracted with fear, and the tears ran down her pallid
cheeks. But she dried them at the mention of de Casimir's price,
and fell to abusing him.
"If your husband is innocent, there is all the more reason why he
should be grateful to me for warning him," he said, with a smile.
And at last the lady paid and went away.
The town clocks had struck eleven before another footstep on the
pavement made de Casimir raise his head.
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