“Who ish dat man there?” asked Mr. Hart.

“What can that be to you?”

“He seems to follow you pretty close.”

“Not so close as you do, by George; and perhaps he has something to get by it, which you haven’t.”

“Come, come, come!  If he have more to get than I he mush be pretty deep.  There is Mishter Tyrrwhit.  No one have more to get than I, only Mishter Tyrrwhit.  Vy, Captain Scarborough, the little game you wash playing there, which wash a very pretty little game, is as nothing to my game wish you.  When you see the money down, on the table there, it seems to be mush because the gold glitters, but it is as noting to my little game, where the gold does not glitter, because it is pen and ink.  A pen and ink soon writes ten thousand pounds.  But you think mush of it when you win two hundred pounds at roulette.”

“I think nothing of it,” said our friend Captain Scarborough.

“And it goes into your pocket to give champagne to the ladies, instead of paying your debts to the poor fellows who have supplied you for so long with all de money.”

All this occurred in the gambling-house at a distance from the table, but within hearing of that attendant who still followed the player.  These moments were moments of misery to the captain in spite of the bank-notes for six hundred napoleons which were still in his breast coat-pocket.  And they were not made lighter by the fact that all the words spoken by the Jew were overheard by the man who was supposed to be there in the capacity of his servant.  But the man, as it seemed, had a mission to fulfil, and was the captain’s master as well as servant.  “Mr. Hart,” said Captain Scarborough, repressing the loudness of his words as far as his rage would admit him, but still speaking so as to attract the attention of some of those round him, “I do not know what good you propose to yourself by following me in this manner.  You have my bonds, which are not even payable till my father’s death.”

“Ah, there you are very much mistaken.”

“And are then only payable out of the property to which I believed myself to be heir when the money was borrowed.”

“You are still de heir—­de heir to Tretton.  There is not a shadow of a doubt as to that.”

“I hope when the time comes,” said the captain, “you’ll be able to prove your words.”

“Of course we shall prove dem.  Why not?  Your father and your brother are very clever shentlemen, I think, but they will not be more clever than Mishter Samuel Hart.  Mr. Tyrrwhit also is a clever man.  Perhaps he understands your father’s way of doing business.  Perhaps it is all right with Mr. Tyrrwhit.  It shall be all right with me too;—­I swear it.  When will you come back to London, Captain Scarborough?”

Then there came an angry dispute in the gambling-room, during which Mr. Hart by no means strove to repress his voice.  Captain Scarborough asserted his rights as a free agent, declaring himself capable, as far as the law was concerned, of going wherever he pleased without reference to Mr. Hart; and told that gentleman that any interference on his part would be regarded as an impertinence.  “But my money—­my money, which you must pay this minute, if I please to demand it.”