On my return I found Emmanuel, the money-lender, who
had accompanied Timothy, fancying that I was in want
of more assistance, and but too willing to give it.
His surprise was very great when I told him that I
wished to repay the money I had borrowed.
“Vell, dis is very strange! I have lent
my monish a tousand times, and never once they did
offer it me back. Vell, I will take it, sar.”
“But how much must I give you, Mr Emmanuel,
for the ten days’ loan?”
“How moch—vy you remember, you vill
give de bond money—de fifteen hundred.”
“What! five hundred pounds interest for ten
days, Mr Emmanuel; no, no, that’s rather too
bad. I will, if you please, pay you back eleven
hundred pounds, and that I think is very handsome.”
“I don’t want my monish, my good sar.
I lend you one tousand pounds, on de condition that
you pay me fifteen hundred when you come into your
properties, which will be in very short time.
You send for me, and tell me you vish to pay back
de monish directly; I never refuse monish—if
you wish to pay, I will take, but I will not take von
farding less dan de monish on de bond.”
“Very well, Mr Emmanuel, just as you please;
I offer you your money back, in presence of my servant,
and one hundred pounds for the loan of it for ten
days. Refuse it if you choose, but I earnestly
recommend you to take it.”
“I will not have de monish, sar; dis is de child’s
play,” replied the Jew. “I must have
my fifteen hundred—all in goot time, sar—I
am in no hurry—I vish you a very good morning,
Mr Newland. Ven you vish for more monish to borrow,
I shall be happy to pay my respects.” So
saying, the Jew walked out of the room, with his arm
behind his back as usual.
I decide upon honesty
as the best policy, and what is more
strange, receive legal
advice upon this important point.
Timothy and I burst into laughter. “Really,
Timothy,” observed I, “it appears that
very little art is necessary to deceive the world,
for in every instance they will deceive themselves.
The Jew is off my conscience, at all events, and now
he never will be paid, until—”
“Until when, Japhet?”
“Until I find out my father,” replied
I.
“Everything is put off till that time arrives,
I observe,” said Timothy. “Other
people will soon be as interested in the search as
yourself.”
“I wish they were, unfortunately it is a secret,
which cannot be divulged.”
A ring at the bell called Timothy down stairs; he
returned with a letter, it was from Lord Windermear,
and ran as follows:—
