“Yes; Charles Hazlit,” answered the Malay.
“Indeed! Well—go on.”
“Well,” said Pungarin, abruptly, “I have nothing more to say, except, what will you give for these things?”
“One thousand pounds would be a large sum to offer,” said the Jew, slowly.
“And a very small one to accept,” returned Pungarin, as he slowly gathered the gems together and put them back into the casket.
“Nay, my friend, be not so hasty,” said Moses; “what do you ask for them?”
“I shall ask nothing,” replied the Malay; “the fact is, I think it probable that I may be able to screw more than their value out of Mr Hazlit.”
“I am sorry to disappoint your expectations,” returned the Jew, with something approaching to a sneer, as he rose; and, selecting one from a pile of English newspapers, slowly read out to his companion the announcement of the failure of the firm of Hazlit and Company. “You see, my good friend, we Jews are very knowing as well as sharp. It were better for you to transact your little business with me.”
Knowing and sharp as he was, the Jew was not sufficiently so to foresee the result of his line of conduct with the Malay rover. Instead of giving in and making the best of circumstances, that freebooter, with characteristic impetuosity, shut the steel box with a loud snap, put it under his arm, rose, and walked out of the place without uttering a word. He went down to the beach and rowed away, leaving Moses to moralise on the uncertainty of all human affairs.
Favouring gales carried the Malay pirate-junk swiftly to the east. The same gales checked, baffled, and retarded the schooner Fairy Queen on her voyage to the west.