"Your money is quite safe, Sir Louis; and the interest is paid to the day."
"Interest, yes; but how do I know how long it will be paid? I should like to see the principal. A hundred thousand pounds, or something like it, is a precious large stake to have in one man's hands, and he preciously hard up himself. I'll tell you what, doctor—I shall look the squire up myself."
"Look him up?"
"Yes; look him up; ferret him out; tell him a bit of my mind. I'll thank you to pass the bottle. D–––– me doctor; I mean to know how things are going on."
"Your money is quite safe," repeated the doctor, "and, to my mind, could not be better invested."
"That's all very well; d–––– well, I dare say, for you and Squire Gresham—"
"What do you mean, Sir Louis?"
"Mean! why I mean that I'll sell the squire up; that's what I mean—hallo—beg pardon. I'm blessed if I haven't broken the water-jug. That comes of having water on the table. Oh, d–––– me, it's all over me." And then, getting up, to avoid the flood he himself had caused, he nearly fell into the doctor's arms.
"You're tired with your journey, Sir Louis; perhaps you'd better go to bed."
"Well, I am a bit seedy or so. Those cursed roads of yours shake a fellow so."