"Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Scriven, who had also seated himself, "will you be good enough to explain your business?"
"Why, as to that," said Sam, in his usual rude and abrupt manner, "I thought you knew d--d well what my business is. Didn't you tell the old girl, Mingy?"
"Yes, I told her exactly what you said," replied Mingy Bowes.
"Well, didn't she tell you?" asked Sam, addressing Mr. Scriven.
"She gave some explanations," replied that gentleman; "but you know ladies' heads are not very clear, and therefore I would rather hear the whole particulars from yourself. She said you had got a pocket-book, which contained papers affecting the honour, and perhaps the life, of a gentleman who may probably be closely connected with my family."
"Ay, that's it," cried Sam; "and I told him to tell her that if she liked to come down handsome I'd say nothing about it; but if she didn't, I'd go and blow the whole to Scriven and Co. Those are the people whose names were forged."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Scriven, in his usual calm and deliberate tone: "well, the matter is worthy of some consideration."
"Devilish little time will I give for consideration," replied the brute. "I'll have the money down this very day, and a promise of it before I go, or else I'll be off to Scriven and Co. at once."
"Well, well," answered Mr. Scriven, "don't be impatient. I have no doubt we shall come to terms of some sort before we part. As a man of business, however, I must know what you can prove and what you cannot, before I agree to anything."
"There, you fool!" whispered Mingy Bowes, in a low tone; "I told you what you would do when you threw the pocket-book into the fire."