"I've heard of fellows borrowing on their expectations," I replied; "but it costs a lot, doesn't it? And I don't know anything about that sort of thing."
"Oh, it's simple enough," he remarked, casually, flicking the ash off his cigar.
"I might get into some old Jew's clutches," I remarked.
"My dear fellow," he replied, "all those stories about modern Shylocks are rubbish. You must have been reading about the man in Balzac who was fool enough to take a bit in cash and the rest in stuffed crocodiles. All that sort of thing is over now, and if you have anything solid in the way of expectations you can always raise money on them from reliable people."
Then, as if the subject did not interest him, he began to talk about something else; but he had set me thinking. Half-a-dozen times at least I was on the point of asking him to help me, but I did not want him to think me hopelessly inexperienced in business matters. At length I said:—
"Do you know, I have been thinking of raising a little money, and now that I am in town I might as well see about it."
"If you have made up your mind," he said, "there is no use in losing time. To whom do you intend to go?"
This was a poser. I had the vaguest possible ideas about money-lenders, and did not know the name of a single member of the fraternity.
Before I could find an answer he observed:—
"There's Jackson, in X—— Street. Why not try him? I haven't had to visit him myself, but I know about him, and I will go and see him with you if you like."