"I'm afraid I can't, sare," said Lazaro; "too moch business. Couldn't you send for it, captain?"
"Not possible," said the German; "but you must surely have somebody that might bring it—some trustworthy person you know." And his eye rested on Esther.
"There's my dater, sare," said the Jew—"I shall send her, if that will do."
"Good," said the captain, "do not forget," and quitted the room forthwith.
He was scarcely gone when a pair with whom the reader is already slightly acquainted, Mr and Mrs Bags, presented themselves. The effects of their morning conviviality had in a great measure disappeared.
"Your servant, sir," said Bags. The Jew nodded.
"We've got a few articles to dispose of," pursued Mr Bags, looking round the room cautiously. "They was left us," he added in a low tone, "by a diseased friend."
"Ah!" said the Jew, "never mind where you got 'em. Be quick—show them."
Mrs Bags produced from under her cloak, first a tin teakettle, then a brass saucepan; and Mr Bags, unbuttoning his coat, laid on the table three knives and a silver fork. Esther, passing near the table at the time, glanced accidentally at the fork, and recognised the Flinders crest—a talbot, or old English bloodhound.
"Father," said she hastily, in Spanish, "don't have anything to do with that—it must be stolen." But the Jew turned so sharply on her, telling her to mind her work, that she retreated.