"I cannot afford to sell at present. I cannot afford men to say, 'Audley
Egerton is done up,—his property is for sale.'"
"It is very sad when one thinks what a rich man you have been—and may be yet!"
"Be yet! How?"
Baron Levy glanced towards the thick mahogany doors,—thick and impervious, as should be the doors of statesmen. "Why, you know that, with three words from you, I could produce an effect upon the stocks of three nations, that might give us each a hundred thousand pounds. We would go shares."
"Levy," said Egerton, coldly, though a deep blush overspread his face, "you are a scoundrel; that is your look-out. I interfere with no man's tastes and conscience. I don't intend to be a scoundrel myself. I have told you that long ago."
The usurer's brows darkened, but he dispelled the cloud with an easy laugh.
"Well," said he, "you are neither wise nor complimentary, but you shall have the money. But yet, would it not be better," added Levy, with emphasis, "to borrow it without interest, of your friend L'Estrange?"
Egerton started as if stung.
"You mean to taunt me, sir!" he exclaimed passionately. "I accept pecuniary favours from Lord L'Estrange!—I!"
"Tut, my dear Egerton, I dare say my Lord would not think so ill now of that act in your life which—"