"Not you, ma'am," said Barclay, whose eyes were rapidly taking in the state of the room. "Business is business, you know," and he took another glance at the rich furniture and handsome mirrors of the place. "Oh, it's all right, Mr Barclay. We're taking the greatest care of it all, and your rent's all ready for you, and always will be, of course." "Yes, yes, I know that, ma'am. I've brought you a little receipt. Saves trouble. Pen and ink not always ready. I keep to my days. So much pleasanter for everybody. Nice rooms, ain't they?" he added, turning to Cora. "Yes, Mr Barclay, the rooms are very nice," she said coldly and thoughtfully. "Anything the matter with her?" said Mr Barclay, leaning forward to Mrs Dean, and taking the money she handed in exchange for a receipt. "Not in love, is she?" Mrs Dean and her visitor exchanged glances, and smiled as Cora rose and walked to the window to gaze out at the sea, merely turning her head to bow distantly when the landlord rose to leave. "I'm a regular scoundrel, 'pon my soul I am," said Josiah Barclay, rubbing his nose with the edge of a memorandum book; "but they pay very handsomely, and if I were to refuse to let a part of a house that I furnish on purpose for letting, without having the highest moral certificates of character with the people who want the rooms, I'm afraid I should never let them at all. Bah! it's no business of mine." He went back to the front door and knocked, to be shown in directly after to where Colonel Mellersh was sitting back in his chair, having evidently just thrown down the pack of cards. "Morning, Shylock," he said, showing his white teeth. "Want your pound of flesh again?" "No, thank ye, Colonel; rather have the ducats. I say, though, I wish you wouldn't call me Shylock. I'm not one of the chosen, you know." "That I'll take oath you're not, Barclay," said the Colonel, looking at his visitor with a very amused smile. "Your future is thoroughly assured. I'm sorry for you, Barclay, for I don't think you're the worst scoundrel that ever breathed." "I say, you know, Colonel, this is too bad, you know. Come, come, come." "Oh, I always speak plainly to you, Barclay. Let me see; can you let me have a hundred?" "A hundred, Colonel?" said the other, looking up sharply; "well, yes, I think I can." "Ah, well, I don't want it, Barclay. I know you'd be only too glad to get a good hold of me." "Wrong, Colonel, wrong," said Barclay, chuckling as he glanced at the cards. "You do me too much good for that." "Do I?" said the Colonel, smiling in a peculiarly cynical way. "Well, perhaps I do influence your market a little. There," he said, taking some notes from his little pocket-book, and handing them to his visitor, "now we are free once more." "Thankye, Colonel, thankye. You're a capital tenant. I say, by the way, after all these years, I shouldn't like to do anything to annoy you: I hope you don't mind the actors upstairs."