“What the deuce is all this to me, man?”

“Much, sir, if you are what men say; for men speak well of you; be patient, and hear me.  Two children were born to me and died from me in the house you have bought; and there my Leah died also; and there at times in the silent hours I seem to hear their voices and their feet.  In another house I shall never hear them—­I shall be quite alone.  Have pity on me, sir, an aged and a lonely man; tear me not from the shadows of my dead.  Let me prevail with you?”

“No!” was the stern answer.

“No?” cried Levi, a sudden light darting into his eye; “then you must be an enemy of Isaac Levi?”

“Yes!” was the grim reply to this rapid inference.

“Aha!” cried the old Jew, with a sudden defiance, which he instantly suppressed.  “And what have I done to gain your enmity, sir?” said he, in a tone crushed by main force into mere regret.

“You lend money.”

“A little, sir, now and then—­a very little.”

“That is to say, when the security is bad, you have no money in hand; but when the security is good, nobody has ever found the bottom of Isaac Levi’s purse.”

“Our people,” said Isaac apologetically, “can trust one another—­they are not like yours.  We are brothers, and that is why money is always forthcoming when the deposit is sound.”

“Well,” said Meadows, “what you are, I am; what I do on the sly you do on the sly, old thirty per cent.”

“The world is wide enough for us both, good sir—­”

“It is!” was the prompt reply.  “And it lies before you, Isaac.  Go where you like, for the little town of Farnborough is not wide enough for me and any man that works my business for his own pocket—­”

“But this is not enmity, sir.”

Meadows gave a coarsish laugh.  “You are hard to please,” cried he.  “I think you will find it is enmity.”

“Nay! sir, this is but matter of profit and loss.  Well, let me stay, and I promise you shall gain and not lose.  Our people are industrious and skillful in all bargains, but we keep faith and covenant.  So be it.  Let us be friends.  I covenant with you, and I swear by the tables of the law, you shall not lose one shilling per annum by me.”

“I’ll trust you as far as I can fling a bull by the tail.  You gave me your history—­take mine.  I have always put my foot on whatever man or thing has stood in my way.  I was poor, I am rich, and that is my policy.”

“It is frail policy,” said Isaac, firmly.  “Some man will be sure to put his foot on you, soon or late.”

“What, do you threaten me?” roared Meadows.