"About fifteen thousand," came in a whisper from some one in the room.
"That's a lie," said Mr. Hart; "so there's no getting out of that. If the shentleman will mind 'is own concerns I'll mind mine. Nobody knows,—barring the captain, and he like enough has forgot,—and nobody's going to know. What's written on these eight bits of paper everybody may know," and he pulled out of a large case or purse, which he carried in his breast coat-pocket, a fat sheaf of bills. "There are five thou' written on each of them, and for five thou' on each of them I means to stand out. 'It or miss. If any shentleman chooses to talk to me about ready money I'll take two thou' off. I like ready money as well as another."
"We can all say the same as that, Mr. Hart," said Tyrrwhit.
"No doubt. And if you think you can get it, I advise you to stick to it. If you thought you could get it you would say the same. But I should like to get that old man's 'ead between my fists. Wouldn't I punch it! Thief! scoundrel! 'orrid old man! It ain't for myself that I'm speaking now, because I'm a-going to get it,—I think I'm a-going to get it;—it's for humanity at large. This kind of thing wiolates one's best feelings."
"'Ear, 'ear, 'ear!" said one of the silent gentlemen.
"Them's the sentiments of Evans & Crooke," said the representative of that firm.
"They're all our sentiments, in course," said Spicer; "but what's the use?"
"Not a ha'p'orth," said Mr. Tyrrwhit.
"Asking your pardon, Mr. Tyrrwhit," said Mr. Hart, "but, as this is a meeting of creditors who 'ave a largish lot of money to deal with, I don't think they ought to part without expressing their opinions in the way of British commerce. I say crucifying 'd be too good for 'im."
"You can't get at him to crucify him."