He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault.
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