"But you are not going, Isaac," protested Peter.
"Yes, this young gentleman, I see, is in a good deal of trouble
and I cannot help him much, so I will go away," and with a wave of
his pudgy hand he shut the door behind him and trotted downstairs
to his shop.
Jack waited until the sound of his retreating footsteps assured
the Jew's permanent departure, then he turned to Peter.
"I did not want to say too much before Mr. Cohen, but Uncle
Arthur's refusal has upset me completely. I could not have
believed it of him. You must help me somehow, Uncle Peter. I don't
mean with your own money; you have not got it to spare--but so I
can get it somewhere. I must have it, and I can't rest until I do
get it."
"Why, my dear boy! Is it so bad as that? I thought you were
joking."
"I tried to joke about it while Mr. Cohen was here, but he saw
through it, I know, from the way he spoke: but this really is a
very serious matter; more serious than anything that ever happened
to me."
Peter walked to the sofa and sat down.
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