"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."
"We can all say the same as that, Mr. Hart," said Tyrrwhit.
"No doubt. And if you think you can get it, I advise you to stick to it.
If you thought you could get it you would say the same. But I should
like to get that old man's 'ead between my fists. Wouldn't I punch it!
Thief! scoundrel! 'orrid old man! It ain't for myself that I'm speaking
now, because I'm a-going to get it,--I think I'm a-going to get it;--it's
for humanity at large. This kind of thing wiolates one's best feelings."
"'Ear, 'ear, 'ear!" said one of the silent gentlemen.
"Them's the sentiments of Evans & Crooke," said the representative of
that firm.
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