“I am Esquire Rock,” answered that personage haughtily. “Be seated, sir. Business with me, sir?”
“My name is Merritt, sir. I am indorser with John Fields on Warden’s notes, and have called—”
“Yes, I know it,” interrupted the attorney, a scarcely perceptible, though dangerous smile playing upon his features—“and you will have them to pay.”
“I am aware that Mr. Warden has failed, but it will be impossible for me to pay the amount at present, and I have called to beg a little indulgence. Five thousand dollars is a large sum to raise, especially by a humble mechanic.”
“You have property, Mr. Merritt.”
“I have some property, Esquire Rock, but were I forced to sell immediately, it would bring but a fraction of its real value.”
“The law must take its course, sir,” said the attorney, decidedly; and he looked at Mr. Merritt, then at the door.
The mechanic understood the hint, and when he met the attorney’s glance, he saw no hope there.
“I had thought,” said he, “that the manner in which I became involved in this misfortune would entitle me to some slight favor at your hands—to a trifling delay by which I might avoid total ruin; but I perceive I am mistaken in looking for mercy here,” he added, bitterly.
Esquire Rock was utterly confounded at the man’s audacity. A poor mechanic to beard him—Isaac Rock, Esquire, counsellor at law, and notary public! The thing was unprecedented.