Right Honourable.
“Now look here, Josh: it’s of no use for you to come bothering me like this. Here have I been back from Italy only a few days, and you’re down upon me like a leech—I mean like a hawk!”
“If your lordship had condescended to tell me that you were going abroad, and consulted me about the meeting of those little bills when they fell due, it would have been a different thing.”
The scene was a heavily-furnished room in a fashionable London hotel, and the speakers were George Viscount Maudlaine, son and heir to the hampered estates and somewhat tarnished title of the Right Honourable Valentine, twentieth Earl of Chiltern; and Joshua Braham, Esq., solicitor, of Drury Chambers, St Alban’s Place, Regent Street. The former, as he lounged back in his purple dressing-gown, appeared to be a tall, well-made young man, with a somewhat dreamy or tobacco-contemplative cast of countenance, more remarkable for bone, and the prominence of the well-known Chiltern features, than anything particularly definite; the latter was a gentleman, very smooth, very swarthy, possessing a ruddy and Eastern development of lip, aquiline of—nose, hair short—black—spiky—of a texture, in short, that threatened, should a lock be sent for, to fly off in dangerous blinding showers of capillary stubble.
“You see, I don’t recollect these sort of things,” said his lordship.
“Only when your lordship requires a fresh supply of money,” said Mr Braham, smiling like a shark, and rubbing his hands together so that his rings rattled.
“There, don’t make a bother: sit down and have some breakfast, Braham,” said the younger man. “These sort of things are so dooced unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant? There’s nothing further from my thoughts, my lord, than making things unpleasant. I only came, after writing twice to remind your lordship that three bills, which fell due a month since, were all returned, and now lie in my hands, with interest and expenses attached. Unpleasant? Why, I give you my word, that Moss, or Peterson, or Barcohen, would have had your lordship arrested and in Bream’s Buildings or Cursitor Street days ago. But I don’t do business like that. I only accommodate gentlemen of position, and then, in return, I expect to get the treatment one meets with from gentlemen of position.”
“You Israelitish hound!” muttered his lordship, “I’d pitch you out of the window if I dared!”
“Did your lordship speak?” said the visitor, bending his head aside in an attitude of attention.
“Speak? No! Only I’ve such a confounded headache this morning, I’m not fit for business matters. Richmond last night with some friends.”
“Yes; I heard so,” said the visitor, softly. “Mad’moiselle Duval was of the party, I think?”
“How the dooce did you know that?” exclaimed his lordship, uneasily.
“Oh! really I hardly know. It is one of the troubles of position, my lord, that every one hears of your movements.”
“I’ll lay twenty to one that you’ve had some hook-beaked, unshaven dog watching me ever since I’ve been back!” exclaimed his lordship, impetuously.
“He, he, he!” laughed the Jew. “Your lordship may have a headache, but you are really most keen and business-like this morning.”
His lordship growled.
“You are,” he said, after a pause.
“Exactly so,” said the money-lender. “And now, perhaps, your lordship will give your attention to the matter in hand?”
“Well, I am attending!” grumbled his lordship.
“Then, perhaps, your lordship will give me a cheque on your banker for the total of the bills, interest and expenses. Let me see,” continued the visitor, drawing a large bill-case from his pocket.
“There, keep that confounded thing out of my sight! My head aches quite badly enough without having that thrown in my teeth. Now, look here: I haven’t fifty pounds at the banker’s, and what there is I want for present expenses.”
“Then what does your lordship propose doing?”
“Nothing at all,” said his lordship sulkily.
“Does your lordship wish me to ask payment of the Earl, your father?”
“If you like,” said his lordship, with a grin; “but while he has this fit of the gout on, I should not advise you to get within his reach. He holds to the fine old idea of his Norman ancestors, that knocking a Jew on the head was meritorious. But there! he won’t pay—he can’t, even if he felt ever so disposed. Now, look here, Braham: you must stick some more interest on, and renew the bills.”
“Renew, my lord?” exclaimed the money-lender, expressing with eyebrows and hands the greatest of surprise. “Impossible! I’ve renewed till I’m as sick of it as of your broken faith.”
“No, you’re not; so don’t be a humbug!” said the Viscount. “I’m not very sharp, I know; but I’m keen enough to see through that. You’ve milked me pretty well, and worked me nicely with all your professional cant. I don’t recollect how much I’ve had in cash—I did put it down on old envelopes, but they’re lost—but I know that those pictures and the wines were horrible stuff; and one way and another you’ve made those bills grow till now they amount to—”
“Four thou—”
“There—there, that’ll do; I can’t pay it, so what’s the good of bothering one about how much it is? I’ve got it down somewhere, I tell you, and perhaps I can find it when I want to know, and I don’t now. Well, as I was going to say, you’ve made the bills grow to that size, now make them grow a little bigger.”
His lordship yawned, stretched himself, and then poured some pale brandy into a coffee-cup, before filling it with the rich fluid in the biggin.
“Totally impossible, my lord,” said the money-lender, rising. “I’m very sorry, my lord, but I must set the law to work. I have, as you well know, always been most desirous of aiding you during pressing necessities; and when unable to help you myself, I have always introduced you to some one who would. But, to speak plainly, this trip of yours to Italy, without a word to me first—”
“Why, confound it all! was I to come and ask you if I might go abroad?” exclaimed his lordship, furiously.
“Oh, dear me, no! Of course not, my lord; but as I was saying, this trip to Italy looks so much like trying to bilk me, that I must, for my own sake—”
“And that of the gentleman in the City,” sneered his lordship.
“No, my lord, I don’t do business with men in the City,” said the Jew, in injured tones; “and for my own sake alone I must take strenuous measures for the recovery of the debt.”
“’Tisn’t a debt: it’s only a money-lending affair,” growled his lordship.
“Well—well, we won’t argue upon that point, my lord. The Sheriff of Middlesex has his ideas upon these matters—ideas in which I have implicit confidence.”
“Here, Braham; I say; come, no nonsense. Don’t be a fool, you know. Don’t be hard on a fellow because he’s bilious and put out!” exclaimed his lordship, who, with the immediate prospect of a sponging-house before him, displayed an unwonted degree of perturbation. “But, I say, you can’t—you know you can’t do any thing yet;” and his lordship’s face brightened.
The Jew laughed.
“Your lordship forgets. Hyman has a little affair out against you, which will just work in well with mine. I shouldn’t be surprised if some one is already waiting for you!”
“Oh! come, I say—you know; I can’t stand this. You mustn’t do anything, Braham; and you must stop Hyman, because I’ve come home—come over—come on purpose—that is, I have something good on my book.”
The money-lender watched him narrowly.
“Have indeed—matter of great importance—case of thousands, in fact—clear me of all my little unpleasantries.”
“Pooh!” ejaculated the money-lender, dropping the servile now that his client began to implore. “Something on the Heath, or the Derby, or Oaks. I never knew one of your family yet with nous enough to do anything but lose. Now, look here, my lord: are you prepared to pay me four thousand three hun—”
“No; not a penny!” exclaimed his lordship, earnestly; “but, look here, Braham,” he cried, catching his visitor by the button; “I’ve got something in hand—I have indeed: not betting. Something safe and paying; but you must give me time, and let me have a few hundreds to carry on with.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the Jew fiercely, “I’m not going to be shilly-shallied with any more. Now, look here, my lord; I’ve given you time, and I’ve been patient. You’ve had documents served upon you; but even to the last I wouldn’t be hard. I said to myself, I’ll give him every chance; and I’ve done it; but you only turn round upon me like all the rest, friend as I’ve been to you. And now it has come to this—I’ve asked you to pay me, and you won’t.”
“I can’t, I tell you—’pon my word I can’t,” exclaimed his lordship, following his visitor to the door, and pressing it back, as the other tried to get it open.
“Very well. Then I must have my pound of flesh!” said the Jew, with a bitter grin. “Only, you see, my lord, we are wiser than our old ancestor, Shylock: we do not bargain for exact weight, and, to avoid the punishment awarded to the shedder of blood, we take the whole body. Your lordship weighs twelve stone, I should think?”
“Fourteen stone,” said the Viscount, complacently.
“Plenty of weight, and to spare, then,” said the Jew, laughing.
“But you don’t mean what you say, Braham?” said his lordship, anxiously.
“I never joke on money matters, my lord; I’ve a couple of sheriff’s officers and a cab across the road, my lord. If you will take the trouble to walk across to the window you can see them.”
Lord Maudlaine took a step across towards the window; but he was back in an instant.
“But I say, Braham,” he exclaimed, “this is getting serious—it is, indeed—and you mustn’t, you know; ’pon my word, you mustn’t. Think of the scandal and the expense; and you won’t do yourself any good, besides ruining me.”
“What do you mean by ruining you?” said the Jew, for the young nobleman’s earnestness was such as no dread of a spunging-house, pure and simple, would have evoked—“what’s in the wind?—what do you mean?”
“Well, I tell you, don’t I? I’ve got something in hand—something good, you know.”
“What is it?”
There was a few minutes’ silence as, driven to bay by his necessities, the scion of the not very noble house stood frowning and biting his lips.
“Just as you like,” said the Jew, coolly. “I don’t want you to tell me.” And he again tried to leave, but his lordship stayed him.
“Now, look here,” said the Jew again. “I’ve always been a friend to you, Lord Maudlaine, and I’ll give you one more chance. What did you go to Italy for?”
There was no answer; and as his lordship stood with his back to the door, the visitor walked across to the window, as if to signal to one of the men waiting with the cab.
“Well, there,” exclaimed his lordship, “to get out of your way.”
The Jew smiled.
“I expected as much. And now, why did you come back?”
“To—because—Well, there; it’s connected with the—with the—the good thing I told you of.”
“Now, look here, young man,” said Abraham, without the “A,” “are we to be friends or enemies?”
“Friends, of course,” said the young nobleman, scowling.
“Then, look here: I must have perfect openness. Just show me that this is something genuine—something worth waiting for, and I’ll wait—of course, for a consideration.”
He waited for some response to his words, but none was forthcoming.
“I’m not going to be treated like this!” exclaimed the visitor, with mock anger. “I’ll soon—”
“There, there—stop, and I’ll tell you all about it. It is worth waiting for.”
His lordship stopped short again, and his by no means intellectual countenance displayed strongly the shame and humiliation he felt.
“Well?” said the Jew.
“It’s about a marriage—a matrimonial affair.”
The Jew looked at him as if he would read his every thought.
“Plenty of money?” he said, at last.
“One of the richest heiresses in England.”
“Are you sure of that?” said Braham; “or has some foreign countess got hold of you again?”
“Sure? Yes!” cried Maudlaine, excitedly. “The father has been living out of England for years past at the rate of a couple of thousand a year, and his income’s at least twenty. All been increasing and piling up ever since.”
The Jew again looked piercingly at the young man; but it was plain enough that the ability was not in him to invent this as a fiction upon the spur of the moment.
“Well,” said the interlocutor, “go on. Have you any chance?”
“Yes; of course I have,” said Maudlaine.
“Father agreeable?”
“Yes!”
“Lady?”
“Well, yes—pretty well; but that’s all right, I tell you.”
“Meet them abroad?”
“Yes.”
“Have they come back to town?”
“To England—not town.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the visitor, still narrowly scanning his victim. “And that’s why you came back?”
“Of course.”
“Now, look here, Maudlaine,” said the Jew, fiercely, “I’m not a man to be trifled with. I was your slave once, and you did not forget to show it. You are mine now, and you must not be surprised at my turn, now it has come, being brought strongly before your attention. But I’ll be frank with you: I lend money for interest. Well and good: I’d rather wait and let you pay me that money and that interest than have to arrest you. I don’t want to get a bad name amongst your class. Now I’ve not much confidence in you as to promises to pay; but I’ll believe your word of honour. Is all this true?”
“On my word of honour, yes!” said Maudlaine, angrily.
“Who is the lady, then?” The Viscount flushed deeply, bit his lips, and was silent; for to answer this question seemed to him too great a humiliation. “Who is the lady?” was asked again. There was no answer. “I suppose you don’t want my help, then?” said the Jew. “Just as you like. Prove to me that this is worth my while to wait—say six or twelve months—and I’ll lend you a few hundreds to go on with. But, there, I’m not anxious; just as you like. Shall I call up the men?”
“Confound you, no!” exclaimed the young man, angrily. “She is the daughter of a wealthy baronet, of Lincolnshire. Now are you satisfied?”
“No,” said the Jew, taking out pencil and pocket-book; “I want his name.”
“Good old family,” said the Viscount, hastily. “Only child. I am invited down there, and the baronet is quite willing. Will that do?”
“Name—name—name!” exclaimed the creditor, impatiently.
“Sir Murray Gernon. There, then!” cried the young man, furiously.
“Sir Murray Gernon,” said the Jew, quietly, as he tapped his teeth with his large gold pencil-case—“Sir Murray Gernon. Ah! let me see; there was a screw loose there, if I recollect right, years ago. Rich family, though—very. Young lady’s mamma bolted, I think; but that don’t matter to you. Yes, that will do, Viscount—that will do. I think I’ll wait.”
“And you will advance me what I require?” said his lordship, eagerly, forgetting all humiliation in his brightened prospects.
“In reason, yes,” said the Jew, with a mocking smile once more overspreading his face; “but I shall not do it for nothing, my Lord Viscount Maudlaine—I shall not do it for nothing.”
“No,” muttered the young man, “I know that.”
“It’s quite possible that I may go so far as to make my own terms,” said the Jew, with a grin. “But I’ll leave you, now, to think over the matter; and if you want any little help, of course you’ll come to my chambers, where we can renew one of the bills.”
“Confound the bills!” cried the young man, angrily; “I must have a cheque for some hard cash to go on with.”
“Very good. Come to me, then, my lord,” said the Jew, all suavity once more. “Excuse me for hurrying away, but it is for your sake. It is not seemly to have Sheriffs’ officers waiting opposite to an hotel. Good morning, my lord!”
“Good morning!” said the Viscount, sulkily.
“You shall fly a little longer, my fine bird—just a little longer!” said Mr Joshua Braham, as he went out; “but it shall be just as long as I like, and with a string tied to your leg—a string, my fine fellow, of which I hold the end?”