"And yet," said Greenwood, determined to receive all this sarcasm as quietly as a poor devil ought to do when about to make a proposal requiring an advance of funds,—"and yet a certain capitalist—a very intimate friend of mine, in Birchin Lane—assured me just now that money was very scarce."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the stockbroker.
"He! he! he!" chuckled the merchant.
"Why, the fact is, Greenwood," continued the broker, "your very intimate friend the capitalist was here only a quarter of an hour ago; and he delighted us hugely by telling us how you called upon him this morning with a scheme that would make millions, and ended by wanting to borrow fifty pounds of him."
"He! he! he!" again chuckled the merchant.
"Ha! ha! ha!" once more laughed the stockbroker; and, taking his friend's arm, he led him into his private office, the two continuing to laugh and chuckle until the door closed behind them.
Greenwood now became aware of the gratifying fact that every clerk in the counting-house was laughing also; and he rushed out into the street, a prey to feelings of the most agonising nature.
But the ignominy of that day was not yet complete in respect to him.
As he darted away from the door of the insolent stockbroker's office, he came in collision with two gentlemen who were walking arm-in-arm towards the Bank.
"'Pon my honour, my good fellow——" began one, rubbing his arm which had been hurt by the encounter.