We went on knocking, taking turns, until the door opened at last and the
banker's servant peered at us with a candle in his hand, demanding to
know in the name of the thousand and one devils whom Solomon boiled in
oil what impudent scavengers were making all that noise. But the banker
himself was in the background, thinking perhaps that the French had come
already, on the lookout over the servant's shoulder for a glimpse of a
kepi. So we put our shoulders to the door, thrust by the servant, and
walked in.
"Take care! I have a pistol in my hand!" said the banker's voice.
"Three shots for a shilling at me then!" retorted Jeremy.
"Who are you?"
"Tell that shivering fool to bring the candle, and you'll see!"
"Oh, you, is it! I told you to come in the morning. I can't see you
now."
"Can't see me, eh? Come in here and peel your eyes, cocky! Sit down
and look at us. There, take a pew. Wonder where I learned such good
English? Well, I used to shine the toenails of the Prince o' Wales, and
you have to pass a Civil Service examination before they give you that
good job. I talk any language except French and Jewish, but this master
of mine turns out to be a Jew who talks French, and not a prizefighter
after all.
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