Next to it was a black coat belonging to a clerk, who had
been out of employment for three months, and now was out of money
also. Here was a child's dress, pawned by the mother in dire
necessity to save the child from starving. There was a plain
gold ring, snatched by a drunken husband from the finger of his
poor wife, not to buy food, but to gratify his insatiable craving
for drink.
Over this scene of confusion presided a little old man with blear
eyes and wrinkled face, but with a sharp glance, fully alive to
his own interests. He was an Englishman born, but he had been
forty years in America. He will be remembered by those who have
read "Paul the Peddler." Though nearly as poverty-stricken in
appearance as his poorest customers, the old man was rich, if
reports were true. His business was a very profitable one,
allowing the most exorbitant rates of interest, and, being a
miser, he spent almost nothing on himself, so that his hoards had
increased to a considerable amount.
He looked up sharply, as Paul and Phil entered, and scanned them
closely with his ferret-like eyes.
CHAPTER XVI
THE FASHIONABLE PARTY
Eliakim Henderson, for this was the pawnbroker's name, did not
remember Paul, though on one occasion our hero had called upon
him.
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