“But I tell you I won’t stand it any longer. You’ve strained the cord until it must now snap.”
“Very well, my dear fellow,” answered the other, with an air of impudent nonchalance. “You know your own business best. Act as you think fit.”
“I shall. This is my last visit here.”
“No doubt. My present wheeze is getting about played out. A good thing like this can’t run for any length of time. In a week, for obvious reasons, I shall lock up the doors and depart with Mother Valentin, leaving the landlord looking for his rent and my clients thirsting for my vitals. Yes, you are right, my dear Zertho, when you say this will be your last visit here. But if the mountain will not come to Mahomet, the latter must go to the mountain. I may, perhaps, call upon you, my dear Zertho.”
“No, you sha’n’t. I shall give orders that you are not to be admitted.”
“You will scarcely do that, I think,” he answered, still smiling. The whole bearing of the man betrayed confidence in his position.
“But I tell you I will. I have come here to-night in fulfilment of your demand. It is, however, the last time that we shall meet.”
“I hope so.”
“Why?”
“I hope that you’ll pay me a sum sufficient to obviate the necessity of us meeting again. I assure you that the pleasure of your company is not unmixed with dislike.”