“I 'm not Lord of anything. I'm next in succession to a peerage, that's all.” “He call you de Viscount--I forget de name.” “Lackington, perhaps?” “Yaas, dat is de name; and say, give him de moneys for his bill. Now, here is de acceptance, and here you put your sign, across dis.” “I 'll write Annesley Beecher, with all my heart; but I 'll not write myself Lackington.” “Den you no have de moneys, nor de Cuyp, nor de Ostade,” said the Jew, replacing the pen in the ink-bottle. “Just let me ask you, old boy, how would it benefit you that I should commit a forgery? Is that the way you like to do business?” “I do know myself how I like my business to do, and no man teach me.” “What the devil did Davis mean, then, by sending me on this fool's errand? He gave me a distinct intimation that you 'd cash my acceptance--” “Am I not ready? You never go and say to der Davis dat I refuse it! Ah, der Davis!” and he sighed as if from the very bottom of his heart. “I'll tell him, frankly, that you made it a condition I was to sign a name that does not belong to me,--_that_ I 'll tell him.” “What care he for dat? Der Davis write his own name on it and pay it hisself.” “Oh! and Davis was also to indorse this bill, was he?” asked Beecher. “I should tink he do; oderwise I scarce give you de moneys.” “That, indeed, makes some difference. Not, in reality, that it would n't be just as much a forgery; but if the bill come back to Grog's own hands--” “Ach, der Grog,--ha! ha! ha! 'Tis so long dat I no hear de name,--Grog Davis!” and the Jew laughed till his eyes ran over. “If there's no other way of getting at this money--” “Dere is no oder way,” said Lazarus, in a tone of firmness.. “Then good-morning, friend Lazarus, for you 'll not catch me spoiling a stamp at that price. No, no, old fellow. I 'm up to a thing or two, though you don't suspect it. I only rise to the natural fly, and no mistake.” “I make no mistake; I take vaary goot care of dat,” said Lazarus, rising, and taking off his fez, to say adieu. “I wish you de vaary goot day.”