Most people would have preferred Kleinwort to Werner; preferred his soft pleading voice, his tone of ready sympathy, his pleasant, cheerful, plausible, confidential manners, till they felt his deathly grip, and understood, too late, the cold snake-like cruelty which underlay his smooth kindly exterior; the devilish deliberation with which he lay in ambush for his prey till the moment came, and with it, for ever, farewell to hope--aye, and it had been to things dearer than hope, or wealth, or life itself.
As for Werner, with dark impassive face and impenetrable, almost sullen manners, he had performed some feats of sailing remarkably close to the wind, which had drawn upon him animadversions from masters, and judges, and juries, and a few honest men in the City--a few of the typical ten who may yet save it, if indeed there are--almsgiving notwithstanding--ten left. He had kept up impending bankrupts till he was clear, and it seemed expedient to let them go; he had allowed people, to "refer to him," who saw him safe out and let other people in; he had, it was whispered, once or twice accepted for payment paper, some of the names on which were more than suspicious, taken in conjunction with other names appended to the document, and no harm had come to him in consequence; in a word, once upon a time, Henry Werner could not have been considered particular, and now, when he had become very particular, those matters were, by persons of a retentive turn of mind, remembered against him.
Mr. Asherill remembered them, which was bad, seeing he had travelled an even worse road himself; but then it must be taken into account that a ticket-of-leave man who sincerely repents the error of his ways cannot afford exactly to be seen in company even with a very young pickpocket.
"Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" asked Mr. Asherill, looking across the table at his visitors, and digging the point of a steel pen into his blotting-paper as he spoke.
"We have brought you one very good thing," said Mr. Kleinwort, speaking slowly, and painfully, English bad as the weather.
"Oh! one small thing; not big, but good. Must be done this very day; no fear of costs; lots of what you call peekings; no large bones but meaty;" and Mr. Kleinwort, who was all head and stomach, like a modern representation of Christmas, as popularly depicted, with a plum-pudding for paunch, laughed at his own wit.