Though in no way remarkable for excess of caution, or for the possession of any extraordinary fund of worldly wisdom, Mr. Blyth frowned and shook his head suspiciously, while he listened to the curious narrative now addressed to him. As soon as it was concluded, he expressed the most decided disapprobation of the careless readiness with which Zack had allowed a perfect stranger to become intimate with him—reminding him that he had met his new acquaintance (of whom, by his own confession, he knew next to nothing) in a very disreputable place—and concluded by earnestly recommending him to break off all connection with so dangerous an associate, at the earliest possible opportunity.
Zack, on his side, was not slow in mustering arguments to defend his conduct. He declared that Mr. Marksman had gone into the Snuggery innocently, and had been grossly insulted before he became the originator of the riot there. As to his family affairs and his real name, he might have good and proper reasons for concealing them; which was the more probable, as his account of himself in other respects was straightforward and unreserved enough. He might be a little eccentric, and might have led an adventurous life; but it was surely not fair to condemn him, on that account only, as a bad character. In conclusion, Zack cited the loan he had received, as a proof that the stranger could not be a swindler, at any rate; and referred to the evident familiarity with localities and customs in California, which he had shown in conversation that afternoon, as affording satisfactory proof in support of his own statement that he had gained his money by gold-digging.
Mr. Blyth, however, still held firmly to his original opinion; and, first offering to advance the money from his own purse, suggested that young Thorpe should relieve himself of the obligation which he had imprudently contracted, by paying back what he had borrowed, that very afternoon.
“Get out of his debt,” said Valentine, earnestly—“Get out of his debt, at any rate.”
“You don’t know him as well as I do,” replied Zack. “He wouldn’t think twice about knocking me down, if I showed I distrusted him in that way—and let me tell you, Blyth, he’s one of the few men alive who could really do it.”
“This is no laughing matter, Zack,” said Valentine, shaking his head doubtfully.
“I never was more serious in my life,” rejoined Zack. “I won’t say I should be afraid, but I will say I should be ashamed to pay him his money back on the day when I borrowed it. Why, he even refused to accept my written acknowledgment of the loan! I only succeeded in forcing it on him unawares, by slipping it in among his banknotes; and, if he finds it there, I’ll lay you any wager you like, he tears it up, or throws it into the fire.”
Mr. Blyth began to look a little puzzled. The stranger’s behavior about the money was rather staggering, to say the least of it.
“Let me bring him to your picture-show,” pursued Zack. “Judge of him yourself, before you condemn him. Surely I can’t say fairer than that? May I bring him to see the pictures? Or will you come back at once with me to Kirk Street, where he lives?”
“I must write to your mother, before I do any thing else; and I have work in hand besides for to-day and tomorrow,” said Valentine. “All things considered, you had better bring your friend as you proposed just now. But remember the distinction I always make between my public studio and my private house. I consider the glorious mission of Art to apply to everybody; so I am proud to open my painting room to any honest man who wants to look at my pictures. But the freedom of my other rooms is only for my own friends. I can’t have strangers brought up stairs: remember that.”