“What do you mean, then?”
“Only that I won’t part with another five-pound note till I get some of that money back.”
Major Rockley’s dark brows came down over his eyes as he glared at Barclay with a peculiarly vindictive expression, while the money-lender thrust his hands deep down into his drab breeches’ pockets, and whistled softly.
“I shall not forget this, Barclay,” he said slowly, and, turning upon his heels, he walked out of the place beating his boot viciously with his whip.
“Oh, the monster!” cried Mrs Barclay, entering the room.
“Why, you’ve been listening.”
“Well, didn’t you leave the door open on purpose for me to listen, Jo-si-ah? Oh, what a bad, evil-looking man, Jo-si-ah. I believe he wouldn’t stop at anything to get money from you now.”
“Black mask and a pair of pistols, on a dark night in a country road, eh, old lady? Stand and deliver; money or your life, eh?”
“Well, you may laugh, Jo-si-ah; but he looks just the sort of man who wouldn’t stop at anything. I am glad you wouldn’t let him have any money, for I’m sure you’d never get it back.”
“I don’t know so much about that, old lady, but whether or no, I wasn’t going to let him have any this morning. He has been short lately, and no mistake. Some one I know’s making a nice thing out of them at the mess.”