“In luck, eh, my future duke? For all your confidence last Saturday—yes, it was Saturday! How dared you come to my private house on a Saturday? For all your confidence, I did not place much credence in your promise to be here to-day with the two thousand pounds—just the interest upon that document of the duke’s—or, I should say, imitation of the duke’s signature. Well, well, I am glad that you are at last going to be a man of your word, and I am sure that the gentle Bulger would not have admitted you unless you were prepared to pay me. A very useful fellow, Bulger, and when clients get abusive, he demonstrates the fact, my dear viscount. He was once a prize-fighter, and got ten years for killing a man. Then I took a fancy to him. Splendid fellow for a man to have about him who has many enemies. Now for the interest—only the interest upon that little document for ten thousand!”
He rubbed his hands together and laughed softly.
“Mr. Isaacs, you are too fond of anticipating things,” Rivington began, and was promptly interrupted. In an instant the face of the Jew underwent an alarming change. The grin extended, but the eyes glowed like burning coals.
“No money!” he snarled. “Just as I expected. Why did Bulger let you in? You lied to him, you thief! I won’t hear you—not a word! I gave you until noon to-day. Time is nearly up. At three my lawyer has instructions to present the bill to the duke himself. Ha! I will not wait one minute more. I will get principal and interest, or——”
He shrugged his shoulders and touched a bell, in answer to which Bulger appeared.
“Turn him out!” cried Isaacs. “Why did you bring him here? He has no money, bah!”
At any other time Rivington would have been sick with rage and fear, but he was at the end of his tether. He was faced with the very worst, and had already rehearsed this scene.
“Leave us, Bulger,” he said, calmly, “or stay, as you choose. I am not going until I have had some assurance from Mr. Isaacs——”
“None! None!” screamed the enraged Jew. “I will not be swindled—oh! you would murder me!”
He cowered back in terror, for Rivington had drawn a revolver from his coat pocket.