Sir Booth's eye lighted on the figure of Mr. Levi, as he stood close by the wall at the other side, hoping to escape observation. With the same instinct Sir Booth stepped backward hastily into an open stable door, and Mr. Levi skipped into another door, within which unfortunately, a chained dog, Neptune, was dozing. The dog flew the length of his tether at Mr. Levi's legs, and the Jewish gentleman sprang forth more hastily even than he had entered. At the same moment, Sir Booth's pride determined _his_ vacillation, and he strode boldly forward and said-- "I think I know you, sir; don't I?" As there was still some little distance between them, Mr. Levi affected near-sightedness, and, compressing his eyelids, smiled dubiously, and said-- "Rayther think not, sir. No, sir--I'm a stranger; my name is Levi--of Goldshed and Levi--and I've been to see Mrs. Mervyn, who lives here, about her young man. I don't know you, sir--no--it is a mishtake." "No, Mr. Levi--you _do_ know me--you do," replied Sir Booth, with a grim oath, approaching, while his fingers clutched at his walking-stick with an uneasy gripe, as if he would have liked to exercise it upon the shoulders of the Israelite. "Oh! crikey! Ay, to be sure--why, it's Sir Booth Fanshawe! I beg pardon, Sir Booth. We thought you was in France; but no matter, Sir Booth Fanshawe, none in the world, for all that little bushiness is blow'd over, quite. We have no interest--no more than your horse--in them little securities, upon my shoul; we sold them two months ago to Sholomons; we were glad to sell them to Sholomons, we were; he hit us pretty hard with some of Wilbraham and Cumming's paper, and I don't care if he never sees a shilling of it--we would rayther _like_ it." And Mr. Levi again made oath to that confession of feeling. "Will you come into the house and have a glass of sherry or something?" said Sir Booth, on reflection. "Well, I don't mind," said Mr. Levi. And in he went and had a glass of sherry and a biscuit, and grew friendly and confidential. "Don't you be running up to town, Sir Booth--Sholomons is looking for you. Clever man, Sholomons, and you should get quietly out of this country as soon as you conveniently can. He thinks you're in France now. He sent Rogers--you know Rogers?" He paused so long here that Sir Booth had to answer "No." "Well, he sent him--a good man, Rogers, you know, but drinks a bit--after you to Vichy, ha, ha, ha! Crikey! it _was_ rich. Sholomons be blowed! It was worth a pound to see his face--ugly fellow. You know Sholomons?"