He stood for a few moments thinking what he would do;—­whether he would leave the drunken man and his office and let the bill take its chance or whether he would make one more effort for an arrangement.  He did not for a moment believe that Broughton himself was subject to any pecuniary difficulty.  Broughton lived in a big house, as rich men live, and had a name for commercial success.  It never occurred to Crosbie that it was a matter of great moment to Dobbs Broughton himself that the bill should be taken up.  Crosbie still thought that Musselboro was his special enemy, and that Broughton had joined Musselboro in his hostility simply because he was too drunk to know better.  ‘You might, at any rate, answer me civilly, Mr Broughton,’ he said.

‘I know nothing of civility with things as they are at present,’ said Broughton.  ’Civil by——!  There’s nothing so civil as paying money when you owe it.  Musselboro, reach me down the decanter and some glasses.  Perhaps Mr Crosbie will wet his whistle.’

‘He don’t want any wine—­nor you either,’ said Musselboro.

‘What’s up now?’ said Broughton, staggering across the room towards a cupboard, in which it was his custom to keep a provision of that comfort which he needed at the present moment.  ’I suppose I may stand a glass of wine to a fellow in my own room, if I like it.’

‘I will take no wine, thank you,’ said Crosbie.

’Then you can to do the other thing.  When I ask a gentleman to take a glass of wine, there is no compulsion.  But about the bill there is compulsion.  Do you understand that?  You may drink, or let it alone; but pay you must.  Why, Mussy, what d’ye think?—­there’s Carter, Ricketts and Carter;—­I’m blessed if Carter just now didn’t beg for two months, as though two months would be all the world to him, and that for a trumpery five hundred pounds.  I never saw money like it is now; never.’  To this appeal, Musselboro made no reply, not caring, perhaps, at the present moment to sustain his partner.  He still balanced himself in his chair, and still kept his hat on his head.  Even Mr Crosbie began to perceive that Mr Musselboro’s genius was in the ascendant in Hook Court.

‘I can hardly believe,’ said Crosbie, ’that things can be so bad that I cannot have a bill for two hundred and fifty pounds renewed when I am willing to pay for the accommodation.  I have not done much in the way of bills, but I never had one dishonoured yet.’

‘Don’t let this be the first,’ said Dobbs Broughton.

‘Not if I can prevent it,’ said Crosbie.  ’But to tell you the truth, Mr Broughton, my bill will be dishonoured unless I can have it renewed.  If it does not suit you to do it, I suppose you can recommend me to someone who can make it convenient.’

‘Why don’t you go to your bankers?’ said Musselboro.

‘I never did ask my bankers for anything of the kind.’

‘Then you should try what your credit with them is worth,’ said Broughton.  ‘It isn’t worth much here, as you can perceive, Mr Crosbie.’