He signed, shook his gold spectacles, and uttered a deep sigh.
"Now, the other paper," said the judge, "its contents are concealed by another sheet, but there is room for your signature."
Israel's little eyes shone wickedly as he gazed upon the sheet of paper, which hid the mysterious document. He chewed the handle of his pen between his teeth,—stood for a moment in great perplexity, and then signed at the bottom of the sheet, the musical name of "Israel Yorke," and then fell back in the chair wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his Turkish jacket.
"Anything more?" he gasped.
"You are free," said the judge; "you may now change your dress, and leave this house."
Israel bounced from his seat.
"Yet, hold a single moment. One of these gentlemen will accompany you wherever you go; eat, drink, walk, sit, sleep with you, and be introduced by you to all your financial friends, as your moneyed friend from the country,——"
"Why, you must be the devil incarnate," screamed Israel, and he beat his clenched hand against the arm of the chair.
"It will be the business of your attendant to accompany you to your banking house, and see that you commence the redemption of your notes at nine o'clock this morning. He will report all your movements to me. Were you suffered to go alone, you might, in a fit of absence, glide out of public view, and,—Havana is such a pleasant residence for runaway bankers, especially in winter time."
Israel gave utterance to an oath. The judge, without remarking this pardonable ebullition of feeling, quietly addressed his twelve,—