“A serpents tooth, to have a thankless child. I dislike being interrupted. Matthew, Roderick has gone to the Jews. The bills have fallen due. They won't renew, and if they are not paid, they'll put him in prison. I cannot have my son in prison.”
“Get him out, then,” replied Matthew. “I can't do more for him than I do. I promised, years ago, that what Sylvester had, Roderick should have, and, by Heaven! I've kept my promise. I can't do more. You can't draw blood from a stone.”
“As if any one ever wanted to. Proverbs are foolish. I never make use of proverbs. I think you must take up those bills.”
“And if I don't?”
Usher shrugged his shoulders and, sitting down again, refilled his glass and held it up to the light. Matthew stood on the hearth-rug, his hands behind him, and regarded him impassively.
“I gave you Roderick's quarterly allowance only a short while ago. What has he done with it?”
“I do not know,” said Usher, impressively, turning his dull venerable face towards him. “He has nearly ruined me already.”
“Have you brought his letters with you?”
“I burned his letters. It is imprudent to keep compromising letters. But I have made out a statement of affairs.”
Usher took from his pocket a double sheet of foolscap, smoothed it out and examined it deliberately, then handed it to Matthew. The latter glanced through the statement. His lips quivered for a moment.