“But you are that sort of fellow that always does want it.”

“I wants it now.  It’s better to speak out, ain’t it?  I must have the five hundred pounds before I put my neck into the noose, and there must be no paring off for petticoats and pelisses.”

“And Mr. Grey says that he must make inquiries into character,” said Carroll.

“Into what?”

“Into character.  He isn’t going to give his money without knowing something about the man.”

“I’m all straight at Newmarket.  I ain’t going to stand any inquiries into me, you know.  I can stand inquiries better than some people.  He’s got a partner named Barry, ain’t he?”

“There is such a gentleman.  I don’t know much about the business ways of my respected brother-in-law.  Mr. Barry is, I believe, a good sort of a man.”

“It’s he as is acting for Captain Scarborough.”

“Is it, now?  It may be, for anything I know.”

Then there came a long conversation, during which Mr. Juniper told some details of his former life, and expressed himself very freely upon certain points.  It appeared that in the event of Mr. Scarborough having died, as was expected, in the course of the early summer, and of Captain Scarborough succeeding to the property in the accustomed manner, Mr. Juniper would have been one of those who would have come forward with a small claim upon the estate.  He had lent, he said, a certain sum of money to help the captain in his embarrassment, and expected to get it back again.  Now, latterly inquiries had been made very disagreeable in their nature to Mr. Juniper; but Mr. Juniper, seeing how the the land lay,—­to use his own phrase,—­consented only to accept so much as he had advanced.  “It don’t make much difference to me,” he had said.  “Let me have the three hundred and fifty pounds which the captain got in hard money.”  Then the inquiries were made by Mr. Barry,—­that very Mr. Barry to whom subsequent inquiries were committed,—­and Mr. Barry could not satisfy himself as to the three hundred and fifty pounds which the captain was said to have got in hard money.  There had been words spoken which seemed to Mr. Juniper to make it very inexpedient,—­and we may say very unfair,—­that these farther inquiries into his character as a husband should be intrusted to the same person.  He regarded Mr. Barry as an enemy to the human race, from whom, in the general confusion of things, no plunder was to be extracted.  Mr Barry had asked for the check by which the three hundred and fifty pounds had been paid to Captain Scarborough in hard cash.  There had been no check, Mr. Juniper had said.  Such a small sum as that had been paid in notes at Newmarket.  He said that he could not, or, rather, that he would not, produce any evidence as to the money.  Mr. Barry had suggested that even so small a sum as three hundred and fifty pounds could not have come and could not have gone without leaving some trace.  Mr. Juniper very indignantly had referred to an acknowledgment on a bill-stamp for six hundred pounds which he had filled in, and which the captain had undoubtedly signed.  “It’s not worth the paper it’s written on,” Mr. Barry had said.