The man indulged in a slight demonstration of dissent.

“No, sir, that won’t do.”

“Half the bill,” roared Algernon; “half the bill, I wouldn’t mind paying.”

“About two-thirds, sir, is what Mr. Samuels asked for, and he’ll stop, and go on as before.”

“He’ll stop and he’ll go on, will he?  Mr. Samuels is amazingly like one of his own watches,” Algernon sneered vehemently.  “Well,” he pursued, in fancied security, “I’ll pay two-thirds.”

“Three hundred, sir.”

“Ay, three hundred.  Tell him to send a receipt for the three hundred, and he shall have it.  As to my entering his shop again, that I shall have to think over.”

“That’s what gentlemen in Mr. Samuels’ position have to run risk of, sir,” said the man.

Algernon, more in astonishment than trepidation, observed him feeling at his breast-pocket.  The action resulted in an exhibition of a second bill, with a legal receipt attached to it, for three hundred pounds.

“Mr. Samuels is anxious to accommodate you in every way, sir.  It isn’t the full sum he wants; it’s a portion.  He thought you might prefer to discharge a portion.”

After this exhibition of foresight on the part of the jeweller, there was no more fight in Algernon beyond a strenuous “Faugh!” of uttermost disgust.

He examined the bill and receipt in the man’s hand with great apparent scrupulousness; not, in reality, seeing a clear syllable.

“Take it and change it,” he threw his Five hundred down, but recovered it from the enemy’s grasp; and with a “one, two, three,” banged his hundreds on the table:  for which he had the loathsome receipt handed to him.

“How,” he asked, chokingly, “did Mr. Samuels know I could—­I had money?”

“Why, sir, you see,” the man, as one who throws off a mask, smiled cordially, after buttoning up the notes; “credit ’d soon give up the ghost, if it hadn’t its own dodges,’ as I may say.  This is only a feeler on Mr. Samuels’ part.  He heard of his things going to pledge.  Halloa! he sings out.  And tradesmen are human, sir.  Between us, I side with gentlemen, in most cases.  Hows’-ever, I’m, so to speak, in Mr. Samuels’ pay.  A young gentleman in debt, give him a good fright, out comes his money, if he’s got any.  Sending of a bill receipted’s a good trying touch.  It’s a compliment to him to suppose he can pay.  Mr. Samuels, sir, wouldn’t go issuing a warrant:  if he could, he wouldn’t.  You named a warrant; that set me up to it.  I shouldn’t have dreamed of a gentleman supposing it otherwise.  Didn’t you notice me show a wall of a face?  I shouldn’t ha’ dared to have tried that on an old hand—­begging your pardon; I mean a real—­a scoundrel.  The regular ones must see features:  we mustn’t be too cunning with them, else they grow suspicious:  they’re keen as animals; they are.  Good afternoon to you, sir.”

Algernon heard the door shut.  He reeled into a chair, and muffling his head in his two arms on the table, sobbed desperately; seeing himself very distinctly reflected in one of the many facets of folly.  Daylight became undesireable to him.  He went to bed.