“Well, I can't say I have. We were pals together long ago; we did a little in the racing line,—in a very small way, of course. Then he used to have a roulette-table at Doncaster; but somehow there was no 'go' in him: he was over-cautious, and always saying, 'I 'd rather take to “business;”' and as I hated business, we separated.”
“It's odd enough that I can't remember the fellow. I thought I knew every one that was on the 'lay' these five-and-thirty years.”
“He wasn't Hankes at the time I speak of; he was a Jew at that period, and went by the name of Simeon.”
“Simeon, Simeon,—not the fellow that used to come down to Windsor, with the Hexquite Habannar cigars?”
And Grog mimicked not alone the voice, but the face of the individual alluded to, till Fisk burst into a roar of laughter.
“That's Simmy,—that's the man,” cried Fisk, as he dried his eyes.
“Don't I know him! I had a class at that time,—young fellows in the Blues. I used to give them lessons in billiards; and Simmy, as you call him, discounted for the mess on a sliding scale,—ten per cent for the Major, and sixty for cornets the first year they joined. He was good fun, Simmy; he fancied he would have been a first-rate actor, and used to give scenes out of 'Othello,' in Kean's manner: that was the only soft thing about him, and many a fellow got a bill done by applauding 'Now is the winter of our discontent'!” And Grog gave a low growling sort of a laugh at his reminiscences.
“You 'll see him to-morrow; he's to breakfast here,” said Fisk, rather amused at the prospect of a recognition between such men.
“He would never play 'Shylock,'” continued Grog, following out his reminiscences, “though we all told him he 'd make a great hit in the part. The Jew, you see,—the Jew couldn't stand that. And so Mr. Simmy Hankes is no other than Simeon! It was an old theory of mine, whenever I saw a fellow doing wonderfully well in the world, without any help from friends or family, to fancy that one time or other he must have belonged to what they are so fond of calling 'the Hebrew persuasion'!”
“I wouldn't rake up old memories with him, Grog, if I were you,” said Fisk, coaxingly.