He finished the sentence, and laid his pen down to think, gazing quietly on the blue hills and sunlit sea. A feeling of hope and repose stole over him;--when suddenly he saw at the door, which was ajar, the leering eyes and villainously cunning countenance of Billy. “What do you want?” he said angrily, casting at the intruder a look of intense disgust. “Beg pardon, sir,” said the man, pulling his hair. “Anything in my line, sir, to-day?” “No!” answered Eric, rising up in a gust of indignation. “What business have you here? Get away instantly.” “Not had much custom from you lately, sir,” said the man. “What do you mean by having the insolence to begin talking to me? If you don’t make yourself scarce at once, I’ll--” “O well,” said the man; “if it comes to that, I’ve business enough. Perhaps you’ll just pay me this debt,” he continued, changing his fawning manner into a bullying swagger. “I’ve waited long enough.” Eric, greatly discomfited, took the dirty bit of paper. It purported to be a bill for various items of drink, all of which Eric _knew_ to have been paid for, and among other things, a charge of £6 for the dinner at the “Jolly Herring.” “Why, you villain, these have all been paid. What! six pounds for the dinner! Why Brigson collected the subscriptions to pay for it before it took place.” “That’s now’t to me, sir. He never paid me; and as you was the young gen’lman in the cheer, I comes to you.” _Now_ Eric knew for the first time what Brigson had meant by his threatened revenge. He saw at once that the man had been put up to act in this way by some one, and had little doubt that Brigson was the instigator. Perhaps it might be even true, as the man said, that he had never received the money. Brigson was quite wicked enough to have embezzled it for his own purposes. “Go,” he said to the man; “you shall have the money in a week.” “And mind it bean’t more nor a week. I don’t chuse to wait for my money no more,” said Billy, impudently, as he retired with an undisguised chuckle, which very nearly made Eric kick him down stairs. What was to be done? To mention the subject to Owen or Montagu, who were best capable of advising him, would have been to renew the memory of unpleasant incidents, which he was most anxious to obliterate from the memory of all. He had not the moral courage to face the natural consequences of his past misconduct, and was now ashamed to speak of what he had not then been ashamed to do. He told Graham and Wildney, who were the best of his old associates, and they at once agreed that _they_ ought to be responsible for at least a share of the debt. Still, between them they could only muster three pounds out of the six which were required, and the week had half elapsed before there seemed any prospect of extrication from the difficulty; so Eric daily grew more miserable and dejected.