"Ha, ha, ha! as you please, ma'am. It isn't the turn of a shilling to _me_, but you _ru_-in the _poo-or_ young man, your son, for da-a-am me, if I touch his bushinesh again, if it falls through _now_; mind you _that_. So, having _ruined_ your own flesh and blood, you tell me to go as I came. It's _nau-thing_ to me--mind that--but ru-in to him; here's my hat and stick--I'm going, only just I'll give you one chance more for that poor young man, just a minute to think again." He had stood up, with his hat and cane in his hand. "Just one chance--you'll be sending for me again, and I won't come. No--no--never, da-a-am me!" "Good evening, sir," said the lady. Mr. Levi bit his thumb-nail. "You don't know what you're a-doing, ma'am," said he, trying once more. "I can't, sir--I _can't_," she said, distractedly. "Come, think--I'm going--_going_; just think--what do you shay?" He waited. "I won't speak, sir." "You won't?" "No, sir." He lingered for a moment, and the red sunlight showed like a flush of anger on his sallow face. Then, with an insolent laugh, he turned, sticking his hat on his head, and walked down the stairs, singing. Outside the hatch, he paused for a second. "I'll get it all another way," he thought. "Round here," he said, "wasn't it--the back way. Good evening, you stupid old crazy cat," and he saluted the windows of the steward's house with a vicious twitch of his cane. CHAPTER IV. MR. BENJAMIN LEVI RECOGNISES AN ACQUAINTANCE. MR. BENJAMIN LEVI, having turned the corner of the steward's house, found himself before two great piers, passing through the gate of which he entered the stable-yard, at the further side of which was a second gate, which he rightly conjectured would give him access to that back avenue through which he meant to make his exit. He glanced round this great quadrangle, one end of which was over-looked by the rear of the old house, and that quaint old refectory with its clumsy flight of stone steps, from the windows of which our friend Sedley had observed the ladies of Malory while engaged in their garden work. There was grass growing between the paving stones, and moss upon the walls, and the stable doors were decaying upon their rusty hinges. Commenting, as so practical a genius naturally would, upon the surrounding capabilities and decay, Mr. Levi had nearly traversed this solitude when he heard some one call, "Thomas Jones!" twice or thrice, and the tones of the voice arrested him instantly. He was a man with a turn for musical business, and not only dabbled in concerts and little operatic speculations, but, having a naturally musical ear, had a retentive memory for voices--and this blind man's faculty stood him in stead here, for, with a malicious thrill of wonder and delight, he instantly recognised this voice. The door of that smaller yard which is next the house opened now, and Sir Booth Fanshawe entered, bawling with increased impatience--"Thomas Jones!"