“Well, I tell you, don’t I? I’ve got something in hand—something good, you know.”
“What is it?”
There was a few minutes’ silence as, driven to bay by his necessities, the scion of the not very noble house stood frowning and biting his lips.
“Just as you like,” said the Jew, coolly. “I don’t want you to tell me.” And he again tried to leave, but his lordship stayed him.
“Now, look here,” said the Jew again. “I’ve always been a friend to you, Lord Maudlaine, and I’ll give you one more chance. What did you go to Italy for?”
There was no answer; and as his lordship stood with his back to the door, the visitor walked across to the window, as if to signal to one of the men waiting with the cab.
“Well, there,” exclaimed his lordship, “to get out of your way.”
The Jew smiled.
“I expected as much. And now, why did you come back?”
“To—because—Well, there; it’s connected with the—with the—the good thing I told you of.”