“You did not lend me five-and-twenty thousand pounds without security.”

“It is forty-five—­now, at this moment.”

“Take it, get it; go and put it in your pocket.  You have a lot of writings; turn then into cash at once.  Take them to any other Jew in London and sell them.  See if you can get your five-and-twenty thousand pounds for them,—­or twenty-five thousand shillings.  You certainly cannot get five-and-twenty pence for them here, though you had all the police of this royal kingdom to support you.  My father says that the bonds I gave you are not worth the paper on which they were written.  If you are cheated, so have I been.  If he has robbed you, so has he me.  But I have not robbed you, and you can do nothing to me.”

“I vill stick to you like beesvax,” said Mr. Hart, while the look of good-humor left his countenance for a moment.  “Like beesvax!  You shall not escape me again.”

“You will have to follow me to Constantinople, then.”

“I vill follow you to the devil.”

“You are likely to go before me there.  But for the present I am off to Constantinople, from whence I intend to make an extended tour to Mount Caucasus, and then into Thibet.  I shall be very glad of your company, but cannot offer to pay the bill.  When you and your companions have settled yourselves comfortably at Tretton, I shall be happy to come and see you there.  You will have to settle the matter first with my younger brother, if I may make bold to call that well-born gentleman my brother at all.  I wish you a good-morning, Mr. Hart.”  Upon that he walked out into the hall, and thence down the steps into the garden in front of the establishment, his own attendant following him.

Mr. Hart also followed him, but did not immediately seek to renew the conversation.  If he meant to show any sign of keeping his threat and of sticking to the captain like beeswax, he must show his purpose at once.  The captain for a time walked round the little enclosure in earnest conversation with the attendant, and Mr. Hart stood on the steps watching them.  Play was over, at any rate for that day, as far as the captain was concerned.

“Now, Captain Scarborough, don’t you think you’ve been very rash?” said the attendant.

“I think I’ve got six hundred and fifty napoleons in my pocket, instead of waiting to get them in driblets from my brother.”

“But if he knew that you had come here he would withdraw them altogether.  Of course, he will know now.  That man will be sure to tell him.  He will let all London know.  Of course, it would be so when you came to a place of such common resort as Monte Carlo.”

“Common resort!  Do you believe he came here as to a place of common resort?  Do you think that he had not tracked me out, and would not have done so, whether I had gone to Melbourne, or New York, or St. Petersburg?  But the wonder is that he should spend his money in such a vain pursuit.”