“Come down and open the door,” said a voice which the pawnbroker recognized as the sailor’s.
“Go away,” he said, in a low, stern voice. “Do you want to rouse the neighborhood?”
“Come down and let me in,” said the other. “It’s for your own good. You’re a dead man if you don’t.”
Impressed by his manner the Jew, after bidding him shortly not to make any more noise, lit his candle, and, dressing hurriedly, took the light in his hand and went grumbling downstairs into the shop.
“Now, what do you want?” he said through the door.
“Let me in and I’ll tell you,” said the other, “or I’ll bawl it through the keyhole, if you like.”
The Jew, placing the candle on the counter, drew back the heavy bolts and cautiously opened the door. The seaman stepped in, and, as the other closed the door, vaulted on to the counter and sat there with his legs dangling.
“That’s right,” he said, nodding approvingly in the direction of the Jew’s right hand. “I hope you know how to use it.”
“What do you want?” demanded the other irritably, putting his hand behind him. “What time o’ night do you call this for turning respectable men out of their beds?”
“I didn’t come for the pleasure o’ seeing your pretty face again, you can bet,” said the seaman carelessly. “It’s good nature what’s brought me here. What have you done with that diamond?”