“Curse him!” he cried at length hoarsely. “He hasn’t a clear hundred to bless himself with, and I hold his paper for thousands. I believe it was with my money he carried off Clo. Well, let him have her. I’ve had enough of the wicked devil. Let him have her. Ha! ha! ha! My grand Major Malpas in the sheriffs hands, and Clo in lodgings without a penny! I needn’t want to trouble myself any more.”
The picture he mentally drew was so satisfactory that he indulged in another hoarse hollow laugh that was ugly upon the ear.
Then he carefully gathered together the three little batches of bills and secured each lot with an elastic band, before placing them in the pocket-book he carried in his breast, buttoned them up tightly, as if they were the greatest treasures he possessed, and ended by locking up the bulky case.
“Ha!” he said, rising, “I’m sorry for poor Major Malpas. I wonder whether that chap Glen will get the step up. What a lovely invention a piece of paper is!”
Volume Three—Chapter Nineteen.
Last Words.
The result of Elbraham’s consideration of the acceptances can be briefly told. There were sale bills out before long at Lady Littletown’s bijou residence at Hampton, and also at Lady Anna Maria Morton’s house in Bryanston Square.
The former lady had been in her carriage, and called upon Elbraham at his City office, and he laughed and asked her to take wine and biscuits, which she did, feeling sure that she could persuade him to make some arrangement to give her time; but as soon as this was demanded, Elbraham, who had a tight hold upon her ladyship’s property, politely told her, but in coarser language, that he would see her condemned first.