The Jew raised his eyebrows.
“You can go in and get your dinner, Bob,” he said. “Now, what do you want?” he continued. “Hurry up, because I’m busy.”
“I come from a pal o’ mine,” said the man, speaking in a low voice, “him what was ’ere last night. He couldn’t come himself, so he sent me. He wants it back.”
“Wants what back?” asked the Jew.
“The diamond,” said the other.
“Diamond? What on earth are you talking about?” demanded the pawnbroker.
“You needn’t try to come it on me,” said the other fiercely. “We want that diamond back, and, mind you, we’ll have it.”
“You clear out,” said the Jew. “I don’t allow people to come threatening me. Out you go.”
“We’ll do more than threaten you,” said the man, the veins in his forehead swelling with rage. “You’ve got that diamond. You got it for five ’undred pound. We’ll give you that back for it, and you may think yourself lucky to get it.”
“You’ve been drinking,” said the Jew, “or somebody’s been fooling you.”