ee," was the calm answer.

"Well, here goes then, Abraham--Lazarus, I mean; make it out for a
matter of--five--no, eight--hang it, let as say ten thousand florins
when we are about it! Ten thousand, at six months,--eh?"

"Better at tree months,--we can always renew," said Stein, calmly.

"Of course; and by that time we may want a little more liquor in the
decanter,--eh! old boy?" said Beecher, laughing joyfully.

"To be sure, vaary mush more liquor as you want it."

"What a brick!" said Beecher, clapping him on the shoulder in all the
ecstasy of delight.

"Dere!" said the Jew, as he finished writing, "all is done; only to say
where it be paid,--what bank at London."

"Well, that is a bit of a puzzle, I must own!" said Beecher, rubbing his
chin with an air of doubt and hesitation.

"Where do de Lord Lackington keep his account?" asked the Jew; and the
question was so artfully posed that Beecher Answered promptly,--

"Harmer and Gore's, Lombard Street, or Pall Mall, whichever you like."

"Hanper and Gore. I know dem vaary well,--that will do; you do sign your
name dere."

"I wish I could persuade you that Annesley Beecher would be
enough,--eh?"

"You write de name as der Davis say, and no oder!"

"Here goes, then! 'In for a penny,' as the proverb says," muttered he;
and in a bold, dashing hand, wrote "Lackington" across the bill.

[Illustration: 058]

"Ah!" said the Jew, as he examined it with his glass, and scanned every
letter over and over; "and now, vat you say for de Cuyp, and de Mieris,
and de Ostade,--vill you take 'era all, as I say?"

"I 'll think over it,--I 'll reflect a bit first, Master Stein. As for
pictures, they 're rather an encumbrance when a man has n't a house to
hang them in."

"You have de vaary fine house in town, and an oder vaary fine house in
de country, beside a what you call box--shoot-box--"

"Nothing of the kind, Lazarus. I haven't a thing as big as the crib
we are standing in. Your mind is always running upon my brother; but
there's a wide difference between our fortunes, I assure you. He drew
the first ticket in the lottery of life; and, by the way, that reminds
me of something in Grog's letter that I was to ask you." And Beecher
took the epistle from his pocket and ran his eye over it. "Ah! here it
is! 'Ask Stein what are the average runs at rouge-et-noir, what are
the signs of an intermitting game, and what are the longest runs he
remembers on one color?' Can you ans