"Take him to the library; I'll come."
Jillingham's face was rather pale, and his lips were set firm when he met his visitor.
"What the mischief do you want?"
"Five thou—ten—what you please. I know of a splendid investment."
"In soap?"
He was the dirtiest creature that ever was seen. He wore a full suit of black, but the coat and trousers were white with age and dust-stains; an open waistcoat, exposing an embroidered shirt which could not have been washed for months; his hat was napless, and had a limp brim; no gloves, and the grimiest of hands. But he was decorated, and wore a ribbon, probably of St. Lucifer.
"In soap, or shavings, or shoddy; what does it matter to you? When can I have the money?"
"Never; not another sixpence."
"Then I shall publish all I know."
"No one will believe you."