“My master has sent you his bill.”

Algernon glanced at the prodigious figures.

“Five hun—!” he gasped, recoiling; and added, “Well, I can’t pay it on the spot.”

“Let me tell you, you’re liable to proceedings you’d better avoid, sir, for the sake of your relations.”

“You dare to threaten to expose me to my relatives?” Algernon said haughtily, and immediately perceived that indignation at this point was a clever stroke; for the man, while deprecating the idea of doing so, showed his more established belief in the possible virtue of such a threat.

“Not at all, sir; but you know that pledging things not paid for is illegal, and subject to penalties.  No tradesman likes it; they can’t allow it.  I may as well let you know that Mr. Samuels—­”

“There, stop!” cried Algernon, laughing, as he thought, heartily.  “Mr. Samuels is a very tolerable Jew; but he doesn’t seem to understand dealing with gentlemen.  Pressure comes;” he waved his hand swimmingly; “one wants money, and gets it how one can.  Mr. Samuels shall not go to bed thinking he has been defrauded.  I will teach Mr. Samuels to think better of us Gentiles.  Write me a receipt.”

“For what amount, sir?” said the man, briskly.

“For the value of the opal—­that is to say, for the value put upon it by Mr. Samuels.  Con! hang! never mind.  Write the receipt.”

He cast a fluttering fifty and a fluttering five on the table, and pushed paper to the man for a receipt.

The man reflected, and refused to take them.

“I don’t think, sir,” he said, “that less than two-thirds of the bill will make Mr. Samuels easy.  You see, this opal was in a necklace.  It wasn’t like a ring you might have taken off your finger.  It’s a lady’s ornament; and soon after you obtain it from us; you make use of it by turning it into cash.  It’s a case for a criminal prosecution, which, for the sake of your relations, Mr. Samuels wouldn’t willingly bring on.  The criminal box is no place for you, sir; but Mr. Samuels must have his own.  His mind is not easy.  I shouldn’t like, sir, to call a policeman.”

“Hey!” shouted Algernon; “you’d have to get a warrant.”

“It’s out, sir.”

Though inclined toward small villanies, he had not studied law, and judging from his own affrighted sensations, and the man’s impassive face, Algernon supposed that warrants were as lightly granted as writs of summons.

He tightened his muscles.  In his time he had talked glibly of Perdition; but this was hot experience.  He and the man measured the force of their eyes.  Algernon let his chest fall.

“Do you mean?” he murmured.

“Why, sir, it’s no use doing things by halves.  When a tradesman says he must have his money, he takes his precautions.”

“Are you in Mr. Samuels’ shop?”

“Not exactly, sir.”

“You’re a detective?”

“I have been in the service, sir.”