Ere he was well aware of it, he was back at the little window of the cottage.
“I must have this money on your own terms, Stein,” said he. “I find that Davis has some urgent need of my presence. I can't delay here another day.”
“How many tousend gulden, milord?” asked the Jew respectfully, as he dipped his pen in the ink-bottle.
“Davis says two—I should like to say four, or even five.”
“Five if you wish it, milord; to me is it all as one—five, fifteen, or fifty; whatever sum you want.”
Beecher put his hand on the other's wrist to detain him while he took a moment's counsel with himself. Never had such a golden opportunity as this presented itself. Never before had he seen the man who so generously proffered his services. It was ask and have. Was he to reject such good fortune?—was he to turn his back on the very first piece of luck that had ever befallen him? What heartburnings might he be storing up for future years when he looked back to the time that, with a word, he might have made his fortune!
“But are you quite sure, friend Lazarus, that if I say eight or ten thousand,—for I don't want more,—Davis will be as willing to back the bill?”
“I am quite sure.”
“Well, now, I am not so very certain of that; and as it is Davis will have to book up, it might be safer, perhaps, that I did n't go beyond the amount he mentions,—eh?”
“As you will,—as you please yourself. I only say, dere is der Herr Davis's name; he send it to me and say, 'Milord will do de rest.'”