Part 50 (2/2)

”He is out for de day, sair,” replied the occupant of the room, a hook-nosed son of Benjamin, rising from the table at which he was seated, and was.h.i.+ng his hands with invisible soap, a process they greatly needed with the material article. ”Can I not do anydings for you?”

”Yes, you can, Schultz,” said the other, in a conciliatory tone. ”The fact is, I want to renew.”

The Jew looked keenly at him, and his little eyes twinkled maliciously.

”I can't do it, sair. De monish, you see, must be paid. It is over-due--over-due.”

”What's the amount now?”

”Fifteen hundred and twenty-fife--six,” answered Schultz, having duly consulted a ponderous tome bound in leather.

”The devil! Now look here, Schultz. We'll renew, say for three months, and you shall let me have the odd five hundred on your own terms.”

”No, sair. Mishter Mork.u.m he said he cood not renew. I was haf de monish or--” and the speaker shrugged his shoulders in a way that was highly suggestive.

”But don't you see, Schultz, I must renew, at any rate,” said the other, angrily. ”Don't be a d.a.m.ned fool now. I'm on a good thing, I tell you, and you shall be paid in full in a few months' time. Don't you see?”

But the Israelite apparently did not see. He was as obdurate towards this Gentile, as the Egyptian Gentile had erewhile been towards his own ancestors. He only shrugged his shoulders and repeated: ”Mishter Mork.u.m, he say I was haf de monish. Fifteen hundred and twenty-fife-- six.”

Then Truscott saw that it was useless, and, unfortunately for him, his temper got the better of him. He raved, and swore, and shook his fist under the other's nose, threatening him with swift and sudden annihilation, and abusing him and his partner in a torrent of the coa.r.s.est invective he could lay tongue to. But of his violence the little Jew was not one whit afraid, for his hand was in his coat-pocket and his fingers were grasping the b.u.t.t of a revolver. His wicked little eyes sparkled like those of a rhinoceros, and the short grey bristles stood up upon his upper lip, as he turned upon Truscott in wrath.

”Hein! Vat do you shay? You shall not bully me, I can tell you dat much. You call yourself a shentelman, inteed? Yesh, you shall repent of this, ven you are in shail, dat's vere you shall be. If you come a step nearer, I shall shoot you,” he went on, producing his weapon, for Truscott in another minute would have seized him by the throat and dashed him to the floor. But a bullet-wound would in no wise facilitate the success of his enterprise, if the result were no worse, and this he had the sense to see in a glimmering of reason which flashed in upon his rage. So he stopped, and, shaking his fist at the Jew, rushed from the room with a final curse--the parting epithet and scornful laugh flung after him by that worthy in no wise tending to allay his ire.

”Say, sonny,” remarked the cabman to the smart boy at the door. ”The Kernel's dustin' your guv'nor's jacket, ain't he?” For the row going on upstairs was in a measure audible in the street.

”Reckon he'll be the fust what's done it--and the last,” replied the imp, pulling a handful of nuts from his breeches-pocket, and proceeding to crack them. Then Truscott emerged, and, flinging himself into the cab, started off westward.

”What a fool I was to get in a rage with the brute!” he thought, bitterly. ”An utter fool! Now I've about done for myself, unless I can get away at once. I'm starting on a fool's errand, though. Six years-- or even five; it's a long time. She may laugh in my face even if I find her; and then again--Hang it! I'll just have another look at the will to make sure. No; it's right enough, though. Still, I'm starting off on a regular fool's errand. I've a good mind to give it up--a devilish good mind. But nothing venture, nothing win.”

The last ray of the sickly September sunlight was slanting garishly over the dust and whirl and roar of the great city, as he alighted at the steps of his club. Yes, a change would do him good, he thought, looking around; and when he came back, why, then--Somehow he felt certain of winning the game which he had set himself to play, and was quite elate.

But the only thorn in his side--and a very sharp one it was--lay in the haunting fear lest the Jew should have him arrested before he could get away. And he could not get away for nearly a week. He would go down in the morning and see Mork.u.m himself, and make it all right with that dirty little Schultz. Mork.u.m was a reasonable fellow, and would be sure to renew, if not to accommodate him further, once an inkling of the case was laid before him; and as for Schultz, why, a bottle of champagne and a slap on the back would salve his wounded feelings.

With this comforting resolve, Truscott dined sumptuously, and, in high good-humour, started off to a friendly rubber, at which he reckoned to make some nice little pickings. It was a fine evening--he would walk; so, lighting a cigar, he stepped out briskly, humming a popular tune, and thinking over his prospects if this move succeeded.

Before he had gone far, some one accosted him.

”Beg pardon, Capting. Sorry to trouble a gentleman--”

”What the devil do you want?” cried Truscott, angrily, an uncomfortable idea taking hold of him.

”I must arrest you, Capting, at the soot of Silas B. Mork.u.m and Co,”

replied the other, touching him on the shoulder. ”Very sorry, sir, extremely sorry; but dooty is dooty--ain't that right, Tom?”

”Tom,” a thin, quiet-looking individual, who might be anything, from a Russian spy to a Methodist cla.s.s leader, nodded, and replied:

”That's so, Bill.”

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