“Ay, but I'll be in France,” broke in O'Reardon.
“I wish you were in———,” mumbled Sewell, as he believed, to himself; but the other heard him, and dryly said, “No, sir, not yet; it's manners to let you go first.”
“I lost heavily two nights ago at the Club,—that's why I 'm so hard up; but I know I must have money by Saturday. By Saturday's post I 'll send you an order for twenty pounds. Will that content you?”
“No, sir, it will not. I had a bad bout of it last night myself, and lost every ha'penny Mr. Harman gave me for the journey,—that's the reason I 'm here.”
“But if I have not got it? There, so help me! is every farthing I can call my own this minute,”—and he drew from his pocket some silver, in which a single gold coin or two mingled,—“take it, if you like.”
“No, sir; it's no good to me. Short of twenty pounds, I could n't start on the journey.”
“And if I haven't got it! Am I to go out and rob for you?” cried Sewell, as his eyes flashed indignantly at him.
“I don't want you to rob; but it isn't a house like this hasn't twenty pounds in it.”
“You mean,” said Sewell, with a sneering laugh, “that if there 's not cash, there must be plate, jewels, and such-like, and so I 'm to lay an embargo on the spoons; but you forget there is a butler who looks after these things.”
“There might be many a loose thing on your Lady's table that would do as well,—a ring or two, or a bracelet that she's tired of.”