“Of course, we take risks,” he said apologetically.
“Mighty few,” commented Murray uncompromisingly.
“If a man has security that is good at the bank he won’t come to us,” persisted the money-lender. “We have to protect ourselves for the additional risk.”
“By getting a man to put himself in the shadow of the penitentiary,” said Murray. “I know all about you people, Shylock. How much did you loan?”
The money-lender was angered almost to the point of defiance—but not quite. Loan-sharks do not easily reach that point: the very nature of their business makes it inadvisable, except when some poor devil is in their power.
“Oh, of course, if it’s a personal matter with you,” he said, “I might scale it a little. The note is for a thousand dollars, with various incidental charges that make it now a thousand and eighty dollars. I might knock off a hundred from that.”
“How much did you loan him, Shylock?” repeated Murray.
“Nine hundred dollars,” answered the money-lender in desperation.
“Shylock,” said Murray with cold deliberation, “I know you people. If I didn’t, I might ask to see the canceled check, but that would prove nothing. You give a check for the full amount, but the man has to put up a cash bonus when he gets it. How much did you loan him?”
“I’ll stand on the note,” declared the money-lender angrily. “I know my rights, and I can be as ugly as you. The note is signed by himself and his wife, and you’ll have a hard time going back of it.”