"Yes, but I didn't know what you meant."
"Didn't one of the voices sound familiar to you?"
"By Jove, you're right, come to think of it. It reminded me of—"
"Of Victor Nevill," said Jimmie. "Benjamin's companion talked exactly like him, it struck me."
"That's it. Queer, wasn't it? But, of course, it was only a coincidence. Nevill couldn't have been there."
"No; I hardly think so," Jimmie answered, slowly and seriously.
"I'm positive about it," exclaimed Bertie. "Surely you wouldn't insinuate that Nevill is a—"
"No, I can't believe him to be that—a tout for money-lenders. But it was wonderfully like his voice."
"Don't get such an idea into your head," protested Bertie. "Nevill was only in the place twice, and then he went to oblige me. He hates the Jews, and won't have anything to do with them himself. And he don't need to. He has a settled income of two or three thousand a year."
"Yet he refused to help you, and pleaded that he was hard up?"