But the squire continued to eye askant the dark-whiskered personage thus interposed between himself and his son, and who waited patiently a few yards in the rear, carelessly readjusting the camellia in his button-hole.
“He looks very outlandish. Is he a foreigner too?” asked the squire at last.
“No, not exactly. However, he knows all about Frank’s embarrassments; and—”
“Embarrassments! what, the debt he paid for that woman? How did he raise the money?”
“I don’t know,” answered Randal; “and that is the reason I asked Baron Levy to accompany me to Egerton’s, that he might explain in private what I have no reason—”
“Baron Levy!” interrupted the squire. “Levy, Levy—I have heard of a Levy who has nearly ruined my neighbour Thornhill,—a money-lender. Zounds! is that the man who knows my son’s affairs? I’ll soon learn, sir.”
Randal caught hold of the squire’s arm: “Stop, stop; if you really insist upon learning more about Frank’s debts, you must not appeal to Baron Levy directly, and as Frank’s father: he will not answer you. But if I present you to him as a mere acquaintance of mine, and turn the conversation, as if carelessly, upon Frank, why, since, in the London world, such matters are never kept secret, except from the parents of young men, I have no doubt he will talk out openly.”
“Manage it as you will,” said the squire.
Randal took Mr. Hazeldean’s arm, and joined Levy—“A friend of mine from the country, Baron.” Levy bowed profoundly, and the three walked slowly on.
“By the by,” said Randal, pressing significantly upon Levy’s arm, “my friend has come to town upon the somewhat unpleasant business of settling the debts of another,—a young man of fashion,—a relation of his own. No one, sir (turning to the squire), could so ably assist you in such arrangements as could Baron Levy.”