But, all the same, he was a man of mark, for this was Samuel Elbraham, the financier, the man who was reputed to have made hundreds of thousands by his connection with the Khedive. Men in society and on 'Change joked about Elbraham, and said that he was a child of Israel, who went down into Egypt and spoiled the Egyptians for everybody's buying but his own. They called him Potiphar, too, and made it a subject of jest that there was no Potiphar's wife; but they also said that it did not matter, for these were days when people had arisen who knew not Joseph. Then they laughed, and wondered whether Potiphar of old went in for a theatre, and supplied rare subsidies of hard cash to a manager, and was very fond of taking parties of friends to his private-box to witness the last new extravaganza, after the said friends had dined with him and drunk his champagne. Somehow or other, it was the friends who ate his dinners and drank his champagne that made the most jokes about him; but though these witticisms, real or would be, came round to him at times, they troubled him very little. The conversation above commenced took place in Mr Elbraham's library, at the riverside residence at Twickenham, the handsomely-furnished place that he, the celebrated converted Israelite, had taken of Lord Washingtower, when a long course of ill-luck on the turf had ended in nearly placing his lordship under the turf, for rumour said that his terrible illness was the result of an attempt to rid himself of his woes by a strong dose of a patent sedative medicine. As Mr Elbraham spoke he hitched up his shoulders, thrust his hands into his pockets, and walked up and down in front of the books he never read. "Not give you credit for what you do?" he retorted. "Why, what do you mean?" "Don't talk to me like that, Elbraham, please. I'm not your servant." "Hang it all, then, what the devil are you? I pay you regular wages." "No. Stop, please. I accept a regulated stipend from you, Elbraham." "Oh, very good! let's have it like that, then, Mr Rarthur Litton. I took you up, same as I did your bills, when you were so hard hit that you didn't know where to go for a fiver. You made certain proposals and promises to me, and, I ask you, what have you done?" "More than you give me credit for," was the reply, rather sullenly made. "You dine with me, you sleep here, and make this place your home whenever you like; and when I look for your help, as I expected, I find that your name is in the papers as the secretary to some confounded Small Fish Protection Society, or as managing director of the Anti-Soap and Soda Laundry Company." "I'm sure I've done my duty by you, Mr Elbraham," said the young man hotly. "If you want to quarrel and get rid of me, say so."