"I say, Denville, old fellow, you're going it, eh?" "My dear Barclay, a sheer necessity. You see how I have placed my son." "Umph! yes," said the money-lender, with a chuckle; "but I'm no better off. You are. One less to keep, but at my expense." "But, my dear Barclay--" "All, it's all very well, but you came to me to find the money for his outfit." "Now, look here, Jo-si-ah," cried Mrs Barclay, who was a wonder of satin, feathers, and jewellery, "Mr Denville has been kind enough to ask us to his party, and I will not have another word said about bills and money. I've come to enjoy myself, and I mean to. There!" "Bless the woman!" sighed Denville. "And where's Miss Claire? Oh, here she is. Oh, my dear, how lovable you look in your plain pearl satin. Oh, I never did! Only oughtn't you to have a necklace on? I say, take me to your room, and let me lend you mine." She placed her plump hand upon a magnificent ruby necklet that she wore, but Claire checked her. "No, no, no, Mrs Barclay," she whispered. "Well, p'raps you're right, my dear. Nothing wouldn't make you look better." "Let me compliment you too, Miss Denville," said Barclay in his brusque way; and, after a smile and a few words, he turned back to talk to his host. "I say, Denville--why, it was in that back room that--why, you've made it into a back drawing-room." "For God's sake, Barclay!" Denville caught at his visitor's arm, and looked at him in a ghastly way. "Eh? Why, you look scared. Ah, well, it was stupid to mention it at a time like this. Mustn't allude to it when they are all here, eh?" "For heaven's sake, no." "All right, I won't. I say, Denville, what do you think of that?" He drew a case from his pocket, opened it, and displayed a necklace of large single diamonds, the sight of which made the MC start and shiver. "Magnificent!" he faltered. "I should think they are. All choice picked stones, sir. Belonged to a Countess." "To a Countess?" said Denville, in a faltering voice. "Yes, sir. I say, your bread's beginning to be buttered thick. Look here." He drew out another case as they stood alone in the front room. "There's a set of pearls, sir. There's lustre and regularity. Two fifty guineas, Denville." "But, my dear Barclay," said the host, striving to recover his equanimity, "why have you brought those here?" "Why have I brought 'em? Don't you know? Well, I'll tell you. Old Carboro' wants to pay a delicate attention to a lady he admires, and he bade me bring two or three things here to choose from. I mean to sell old Drelincourt the one he does not take. Look, I've two more lots." "But, my dear Barclay, surely you will not attempt to sell or barter here--in my house," said Denville piteously. "Not try? Oh, won't I, though! Why, my dear Denville, you don't suppose I came to waste time, do you? Not I."