The office was the ground-floor front room, in one of the small streets north of the King's Road. It was not an imposing office, nor did it seem as if much business was done there; and one clerk of tender years sufficed for Mr. Chalker's wants.
"Oh!" he said, "it's our friend from India. You're a lodger of old Emblem's, ain't you?"
"I have lived with him for twenty years. I am his friend."
"Very well. I dare say we shall come to terms, if he's come to his senses. Just take a chair and sit down. How is the old man?"
"He has not yet recovered the use of his intellect."
"Oh! Then how can you act for him if he's off his head?"
"I came to ask an English creditor to show mercy."
"Mercy? What is the man talking about? Mercy! I want my money. What has that got to do with mercy?"
"Nothing, truly; but I will give you your money. I will give you justice, and you shall give me mercy. You lent Mr. Emblem fifty pounds. Will you take your fifty pounds, and leave us in peace?"