"I am going up to London by the mid-day train to see Captain Shackel."
"Why not write or telegraph?" suggested Korah.
"I think it best to be on the spot myself, brother."
The missionary nodded and rose to leave the room. At the door he paused and looked at Johnson keenly from under his shaggy brows.
"Brother," said he in a deep and solemn voice, "your feet are straying from the narrow path. You love this maiden entrusted to your care, and weary after the pearls."
"No, no, I do not. What do I want with the pearls?"
"Brother," Brand shook a menacing finger, "it is known that you owe money. With those pearls you would pay the price of your follies."
"How do you know that I owe money?" asked Johnson, pale to the lips.
"Your handmaiden found a letter swept aside. It was from a tailor, requesting from you payment of eighty pounds due to him. What have you to do with the vanity of dyed garments from Bozrah?"
"My private affairs are my own, Mr. Brand," cried Johnson, with spirit. "I allow no man to discuss them in my presence."