"Mr. Frank Marshall's bill for five hundred included?" asked Geoffrey.
The man started and plucked at his nether lip. "Ha! Hey! What do you know about Mr. Marshall, sir?"
"Not so much as you can tell me," said Heron, significantly.
"Marshall--Marshall," muttered Roper. "I don't know him--never heard of him."
Geoffrey took a new tack and prepared to go. "In that case, I need not trouble you. My business has to do with Marshall and a forgery."
"Wait. Come now, don't hurry!" screeched the old man, clawing at Heron's frock-coat. "I do begin to remember something of this. I am old--I can't remember as well as I did. Marshall--Frank Marshall--Cass and Marshall. Yes, yes, of course I know! A forgery--your father--quite so!" He stopped and looked up sharply. "Well, what is it?" he asked.
Geoffrey sat down again. He was beginning to see his way to the successful management of this old gentleman. "It is a long story," he said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the avaricious face of the usurer. "Let me begin at the beginning. What about a man called Jenner?"
Roper gave another screech, and was visibly startled. He cast a swift glance at the door behind which, no doubt, the useful Jerry was eavesdropping. "Jenner," he said, recovering himself with an effort, "was a clerk of mine, and a blackguard."
"The one implies the other," Heron said, drily, "if all I have heard of you is true."
"Now, sir, don't you come libelling me," whimpered the usurer, still disturbed. "I won't have it. I will bring an action for damages--heavy damages."