So Mr. Levi took the dip candle and opened one of the safes, displaying for a moment cases of old-fashioned jewellery, and a number of watches. I daresay Mr. Levi and his partner made advances on deposits.
“Why don't you cut them confounded rasesh, Shir Richard? I'm bleshed if I didn't lose five pounds on the Derby myself! There'sh lotsh of field sportsh,” he continued, approaching the table with his cheque-book. “Didn't you never shee a ferret kill a rabbit? It'sh a beautiful thing; it takesh it shomeway down the back, and bit by bit it mendsh itsh grip, moving up to-wards the head. It is really beautiful, and not a shound from either, only you'll see the rabbitsh big eyes lookin' sho wonderful! and the ferret hangsh on, swinging this way and that like a shna-ake—'tish wery pretty!—till he worksh hish grip up to where the backbone joinish in with the brain; and then in with itsh teeth, through the shkull! and the rabbit givesh a screetch like a child in a fit. Ha, ha, ha! I'm blesht if it ain't done ash clever ash a doctor could do it. 'Twould make you laugh. That will do.”
And he took the bills from Sir Richard, and handed him two cheques, and as he placed the bills in the safe, and locked them up, he continued,—
“It ish uncommon pretty! I'd rayther shee it than a terrier on fifty rats. The rabbit's sho shimple—there'sh the fun of it—and looksh sho foolish; and every rabbit had besht look sharp,” he continued, turning about as he put the keys in his pocket, and looking with his burning black eyes full on Sir Richard, “and not let a ferret get a grip anywhere; for if he getsh a good purchase, he'll never let go till he hash his teeth in his brain, and then he'sh off with a shqueak, and there's an end of him.”
“I can get notes for one of these cheques to-night?” said Sir Richard.
“The shmall one, yesh, eashy,” answered Mr. Levi. “I'm a bachelor,” he added jollily, in something like a soliloquy, “and whenever I marry I'll be the better of it; and I'm no muff, and no cove can shay that I ever shplit on no one. And what do I care for Lonclushe? Not the snuff of this can'le!” And he snuffed the dip scornfully with his fingers, and flung the sparkling wick over the bannister, as he stood at the door, to light Sir Richard down the stairs.
