"'Gad, sir! _I_ see _mine_, and I'll go it," laughed Mr. Dingwell, with a most unpleasant glare in his eyes. "On reflection, you will see, my dear Mr. Dingwell, the extreme inexpediency of anything in the least resembling a _fraycas_" (Mr. Larkin so pronounced his French) "in your particular case. I should certainly, my dear sir, recommend a most cautious line." "Cautious as the devil," seconded Mr. Levi. "You think I'm afraid of my liabilities," croaked Mr. Dingwell, with a sudden flush across his forehead, and a spasm of his brows over his wild eyes, and then he laughed, and wagged his head. "That's right--quite right," almost sighed Mr. Larkin--"do--do--_pray_ do--just _reflect_ for only a _moment_--and you'll _see_ it." "To be sure, I _see_ it, and _you_ shall see it, too. Egad! I know something, sir, at my years. I know how to deal with screws, and bullies, and schemers, sir--and that is by _going straight at_ them--and I'll tell you what, sir, if you don't pay me the money I name, I'll make you regret it." For a moment, Mr. Larkin, for one, did almost regret his share in this uncomfortable and highly "speculative" business. If this Mr. Dingwell chose to turn restive and extortionate, it would have been better it had never entered into his ingenious head, and he could already see in the Jew's eyes the sulky and ferocious expression that seemed to forebode defeat. "If you don't treat me, as I say, with common fairness, I'll go straight to young Mr. Verney myself, and put you out of the baby-house altogether." "_What_ babby-houshe?" demanded Mr. Levi, glowering, and hanging the corners of his great half-open mouth with a sullen ferocity. "Your castle--in the air--your d--d plot, sir." "If you mean you're going to turn stag," began the Jew. "_There_--do--pray, Mr. Levi--you--you _mistake_," interposed Mr. Larkin, imploringly, who had heard tales of this Mr. Dingwell's mad temper. "I say," continued Levi, "if you're going to split----" "Split, sir!" cried Mr. Dingwell, with a malignant frown, and drawing his mouth together into a puckered ring, as he looked askance at the Jew. "What the devil do you mean by _split_, sir? 'Gad! sir, I'd split your black head for you, you little Jew miscreant!" Mr. Larkin saw with a qualm that the sinews of that evil face were quivering with an insane fury, and that even under its sun-darkened skin it had turned pale, while the old man's hand was instinctively extended towards the poker, of which he was thinking, and which was uncomfortably near. "No, no, _no_--pray, gentlemen--I _entreat_--only _think_," urged Mr. Larkin, seriously alarmed for the Queen's peace and his own precious character, and for the personal safety of his capitalist and his witness.