"Mr. Effingham, you have taken, as you yourself admit, an immense deal of trouble to hunt me up, and having found me you ask me for money, on the ground of your being the brother of an infernal scoundrel whom I had once the ill-luck to be associated with--don't interrupt me, please. It wasn't Tony Butler's fault that I didn't die on a dunghill, or that I am not now--"
"In Norfolk Island," said Mr. Effingham, getting in his words this time.
Sir Charles glared fiercely at him for an instant, and then continued: "Now I expected I should have to encounter this sort of thing from the people who pillaged me when I was poor, and would make that an excuse for further extortion, and I determined not to accede to any application. But as you're the first who has applied, and as you've neither bullied nor whined, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you, on condition I never see or hear of you again, this five-pound note."
Mr. Effingham laughed, a real hearty laugh, as he shook his head, and said: "Won't do: nothing like enough."
Sir Charles lost his temper, and said: "Stop this infernal tomfoolery, sir! Not enough! Why, d--n it, one would think you had a claim upon me!"
"And suppose I have, Sir Charles Mitford, what then?" said Mr. Effingham, leaning forward in his chair and confronting his companion.
"What then? Why--pooh, stuff! this is a poor attempt at extortion. You don't think to get any money out of me by threatening to tell of my connection with the Albatross crew? You don't think I should mind the people to whom you could tell it knowing it, do you?"
"I don't know; perhaps not; and yet I think I shall be able before I've done to prove to you I've a claim on you."
"What is it?"
"All tiled here, eh? Nobody within earshot? That sleek cove in black that wouldn't let me see you, not listening at the door, is he?"