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:—