"I know," nodded Stroude. "I've heard him before, though he's never had occasion to use his honey on me."
Answering the money-lender was a quavering voice, decidedly French in accent, and pitched to a note of anxiety.
"I am not known here," said the quavering voice, "except by Rufus Stevens' Sons. With them I have moneys invested. But there are reasons why I should ask no favors of them."
"To get a name upon the back of a note is no favor," explained the sweet voice. "No favor at all. It is a matter of business."
"There is no one but them; and to them I will not go," said the quavering voice, with a deal of native decision. "I am sorry to have intruded upon you, monsieur, and taken your time."
There was a scraping of chair-legs upon the floor; then the money-lender was heard to say:
"Wait! do not be in haste, Monsieur Lafargue. Let us consider. Mr. Tarrant sent you here, and Mr. Tarrant is my very good friend. I would go greatly out of my way to oblige him. Of course, to have Rufus Stevens' Sons upon your note would be desirable; but as this is an exceptional case we'll say no more about it. What sum did you say you required?"
Nathaniel paused in his thumbing of his documents; his wide mouth hung open, surprisedly, as he listened.
"What?" whispered Stroude. "What? Old Bulfinch lend money without a sponsor?"
But Sparhawk, whose perky manner seemed suddenly frozen into one of interest, motioned him to be still.