“I say so too,” said Evans & Crooke.

“By George!” continued Mr. Hart, “we come forward to ’elp a shentleman in his trouble and to wait for our moneys till the father is dead, and then when ’e’s ’ad our moneys the father turns round and says that ’is own son is a—­Oh, it’s too shocking!  I ’aven’t slept since I ’eard it,—­not a regular night’s rest.  Now, it’s my belief the captain ’as no ’and in it.”

Here Mr. Juniper scratched his head and looked doubtful, and one or two of the other silent gentlemen scratched their heads.  Messrs. Evans & Crooke scratched his head.  “It’s a matter on which I would not like to give an opinion one way or the other,” said Tyrrwhit.

“No more wouldn’t I,” said Spicer.

“Let every man speak as he finds,” continued Hart.  “That’s my belief.  I don’t mind giving up a little of my claim, just a thousand or so, for ready cash.  The old sinner ought to be dead, and can’t last long.  My belief is when ’e’s gone I’m so circumstanced I shall get the whole.  Whether or no, I’ve gone in for ’elping the captain with all my savings, and I mean to stick to them.”

“And lose everything,” said Tyrrwhit.

“Why don’t we go and lug the old sinner into prison?” said Evans & Crooke.

“Certainly that’s the game,” said Juniper, and there was another loud acclamation of applause from the entire room.

“Gentlemen, you don’t know what you’re talking about, you don’t indeed,” said Tyrrwhit.

“I don’t believe as we do,” said Spicer.

“You can’t touch the old gentleman.  He owes you nothing, nor have you a scratch of his pen.  How are you to lug an old gentleman to prison when he’s lying there cut up by the doctors almost to nothing?  I don’t know that anybody can touch him.  The captain perhaps might, if the present story be false; and the younger son, if the other be true.  And then they’d have to prove it.  Mr. Grey says that no one can touch him.”

“He’s in the swim as bad as any of ’em,” said Evans & Crooke.

“Of course he is,” said Hart.  “But let everybody speak for himself.  I’ve gone in to ’earn a ’eavy stake honestly.”

“That’s all right,” said Evans & Crooke.

“And I mean to ’ave it or nothing.  Now, Mr. Tyrrwhit, you know a piece of my mind.  It’s a biggish lot of money.”

“We know what your claim is.”

“But no man knows what the captain got, and I don’t mean ’em to know.”

“About fifteen thousand,” came in a whisper from some one in the room.

“That’s a lie,” said Mr. Hart; “so there’s no getting out of that.  If the shentleman will mind ’is own concerns I’ll mind mine.  Nobody knows,—­barring the captain, and he like enough has forgot,—­and nobody’s going to know.  What’s written on these eight bits of paper everybody may know,” and he pulled out of a large case or purse, which he carried in his breast coat-pocket, a fat sheaf of bills.  “There are five thou’ written on each of them, and for five thou’ on each of them I means to stand out.  ‘It or miss.’  If any shentleman chooses to talk to me about ready money I’ll take two thou’ off.  I like ready money as well as another.”