“My statement,” said Hoare, provoked at the tone assumed towards him, “resolves itself into a debt of three thousand seven hundred and forty-eight pounds some odd shillings. There are the bills. The sums due for interest and commission are noted down, and will, I believe, be found duly correct.”
“Three thousand seven hundred pounds in less than five years!” ejaculated Tiernay. “What iniquity!”
“If your expression is intended to apply to anything in the conduct of this transaction, sir,” said Hoare, growing pale with passion as he spoke, “I beg you to remember that there is such a thing in the land as redress for libel.”
“If the laws will warrant sixty per cent, they may well punish the man who calls it infamy,” said Tiernay, almost choking with anger.
“That will do, gentlemen, that will do,” said Hoare, replacing the bills in the pocket-book, while his fingers trembled with passion. “I was not aware that your object in this meeting was to insult me; I 'll not expose myself a second time to such a casualty. I 'll thank you to hand me that bill, sir!” This request was addressed to Cashel, who, with his eyes riveted on a document which he held in both hands, sat perfectly unmindful of all around him.
“If you will have the kindness to give me that bill, sir?” said Hoare, again.
“Shylock wants his bond,” said Tiernay, who walked up and down the room with clinched hands, and brows knitted into one deep furrow.
Hoare turned a scowling glance towards him, but not trusting himself to reply, merely repeated his question to Cashel.
“How came you by this?” cried Roland, rising from the table, and holding out a written paper towards Hoare; “I ask, sir, how came you by this?” reiterated he, while the paper shook with the hand that held it.
“Oh! I perceive,” said Hoare; “that document has no concern with the case before us; it refers to another and very different transaction.”