“Well, what is it?” he said.
“Look here, Mr Elbraham,” said Litton, “I suppose we are not very good friends?”
“H’m, I don’t know. You are in my pay,” said the financier coarsely, “so you ought to be one of my best friends.”
“You’ve said too many sharp things to me, Mr Elbraham, to make me feel warmly towards you; but, all the same, I confess that you have done me some very good turns in money matters; and I hope, though I take your pay, that I am too much of a gentleman to stand by and see anyone take a mean advantage of a weakness on your part.”
“Weakness? My part!” said the financier fiercely, as if the very idea of his being weak was absurd.
“Yes, sir, weakness. Look here, Mr Elbraham, I should not like to see you taken in.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Mean?” said Litton. “Well, Mr Elbraham, I’m not afraid of you; so whether you are offended or not, I shall speak out.”
“Then speak out, sir, and don’t shilly-shally.”
“Well, sir, it seems to me that there’s a good deal of fortune-hunting about. Those Dymcox people have good blood, certainly; but they’re as poor as rats, and I’ll be bound to say nothing would please the old aunts better than hooking you, with one of those girls for a bait.”