"
The Seraph looked a little bored, a little amused.
"Well, ask it, my good fellow; you have your opportunity!" he said
impatiently, yet good-humored still.
"Then would you, my lord," continued the Jew with his strong
Hebrew-German accent, "be so good as to favor me by saying whether this
signature be your own?"
The Jew held before him a folded paper, so folded that one line only was
visible, across which was dashed in bold characters, "Rockingham."
The Seraph put up his eye-glass, stopped, and took a steadfast look;
then shook his head.
"No; that is not mine; at least, I think not. Never made my R half a
quarter so well in my life."
"Many thanks, my lord," said Baroni quietly. "One question more and we
can substantiate the fact. Did your lordship indorse any bill on the
15th of last month?"
The Seraph looked surprised, and reflected a moment. "No, I didn't," he
said after a pause. "I have done it for men, but not on that day; I was
shooting at Hornsey Wood most of it, if I remember right. Why do you
ask?"
"I will tell you, my lord, if you grant me a private interview."
The Seraph moved away. "Never do that," he said briefly; "private
interviews," thought he, acting on past experience, "with women always
mean proposals, and with men always mean extortion."
Baroni made a quick movement toward him.
"An instant, my lord! This intimately concerns yourself. The steps of an
hotel are surely not the place in which to speak of it?"
"I wish to hear nothing about it," replied Rock, putting him aside;
while he thought to himself regretfully, "That is 'stiff,' that bit
of paper; perhaps some poor wretch is in a scrape.
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