"I am desired to collect these," said the man coldly.
Much as Wilkinson had thought, in anticipation of this particular crisis, he was yet undecided as to what he should do. He had been made the victim of a specious scoundrel—a wolf who had come to him in sheep's clothing. Running back his thoughts, as distinctly as it was possible for him to do, to the occurrences of the previous night, he remembered much that fully satisfied him that Carlton had played against him most unfairly; he not only induced him to drink until his mind was confused, but had taken advantage of this confused state, to cheat in the grossest manner. Some moments passed ere he replied to the application; then he said—
"I'm not prepared to do any thing with this matter just now."
"My directions are to collect these bills," was the simple reply, made in a tone that expressed even more than the words.
"You may find that more difficult than you imagine," replied Wilkinson, with some impatience.
"No—no—we never have much difficulty in collecting debts of this kind." There was a meaning emphasis on the last two words, which Wilkinson understood but too well. Still he made answer,
"You may find it a little harder in the present case than you imagine. I never received value for these tokens of indebtedness."
"You must have been a precious fool to have given them then," was promptly returned, with a curling lip, and in a tone of contempt. "They represent, I presume, debts of honour?"
"There was precious little honour in the transaction," said Wilkinson, who, stung by the manner and words of the collector, lost his self-possessions. "If ever a man was cheated, I was."
"Say that to Mr. Carlton himself; it is out of place with me. As I remarked a little while ago, my business is to collect the sums called for by these due-bills. Are you prepared to settle them?"