"Who is the little biter?" the money-lender inquired of him with delightful insolence.
"An old friend of mine," replied Raffles, in an injured tone that made a convincing end of the old friendship. "I thought he was hard up, or I never should have brought him in to introduce to you."
"I didn't ask you for your introduction, Raffles," said I offensively. "I simply met you coming out as I was coming in. I thought you damned officious, if you ask me!"
Whereupon, with an Anglo-Saxon threat of subsequent violence to my person, Raffles flung open the door to leave us to our interview. This was exactly as it had been rehearsed. But Dan Levy called Raffles back. And that was exactly as we had hoped.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" said the Jew. "Please don't make a cockpit of my office, gentlemen; and pray, Mr. Raffles, don't leave me to the mercies of your very dangerous friend."
"You can be two to one if you like," I gasped valiantly. "I don't care."
And my chest heaved in accordance with my stage instructions, as also with a realism to which it was a relief to give full play.
"Come now," said Levy. "What did Mr. Garland send you about?"
"You know well enough," said I: "his debt to you."
"Don't be rude about it," said Levy. "What about the debt?"