I gave him my hand, of course, because I could not help it; but the sympathy I had been prepared to feel for Clara’s father was immediately soured by his appearance, and the wheedling, unreal tones in which he spoke.

“Cassilis is a good man,” said Northmour; “worth ten.”

“So I hear,” cried Mr. Huddlestone eagerly; “so my girl tells me.  Ah, Mr. Cassilis, my sin has found me out, you see!  I am very low, very low; but I hope equally penitent.  We must all come to the throne of grace at last, Mr. Cassilis.  For my part, I come late indeed; but with unfeigned humility, I trust.”

“Fiddle-de-dee!” said Northmour roughly.

“No, no, dear Northmour!” cried the banker.  “You must not say that; you must not try to shake me.  You forget, my dear, good boy, you forget I may be called this very night before my Maker.”

His excitement was pitiful to behold; and I felt myself grow indignant with Northmour, whose infidel opinions I well knew, and heartily despised, as he continued to taunt the poor sinner out of his humor of repentance.

“Pooh, my dear Huddlestone!” said he.  “You do yourself injustice.  You are a man of the world inside and out, and were up to all kinds of mischief before I was born.  Your conscience is tanned like South American leather—­only you forgot to tan your liver, and that, if you will believe me, is the seat of the annoyance.”

“Rogue, rogue! bad boy!” said Mr. Huddlestone, shaking his finger.  “I am no precisian, if you come to that; I always hated a precisian; but I never lost hold of something better through it all.  I have been a bad boy, Mr. Cassilis; I do not seek to deny that; but it was after my wife’s death, and you know, with a widower, it’s a different thing:  sinful—­I won’t say no; but there is a gradation, we shall hope.  And talking of that—­Hark!” he broke out suddenly, his hand raised, his fingers spread, his face racked with interest and terror.  “Only the rain, bless God!” he added, after a pause, and with indescribable relief.

For some seconds he lay back among the pillows like a man near to fainting; then he gathered himself together, and, in somewhat tremulous tones, began once more to thank me for the share I was prepared to take in his defense.

“One question, sir,” said I, when he had paused.  “Is it true that you have money with you?”

He seemed annoyed by the question, but admitted with reluctance that he had a little.

“Well,” I continued, “it is their money they are after, is it not?  Why not give it up to them?”

“Ah!” replied he, shaking his head, “I have tried that already, Mr. Cassilis; and alas! that it should be so, but it is blood they want.”

“Huddlestone, that’s a little less than fair,” said Northmour.  “You should mention that what you offered them was upward of two hundred thousand short.  The deficit is worth a reference; it is for what they call a cool sum, Frank.  Then, you see, the fellows reason in their clear Italian way; and it seems to them, as indeed it seems to me, that they may just as well have both while they’re about it—­money and blood together, by George, and no more trouble for the extra pleasure.”