He seated
himself, and querulously inquired of my father what his business was. It
was told him very briefly. He frowned, hummed, hawed, threw himself back
in his armchair, and curtly exclaimed, "I am not a money-lender!"
The fact that the _Illustrated London News_ was the world's premier
journal of its class went for nothing. The offers of the other
correspondents of the English Press to back my father's signature were
dismissed with disdain. When the colonel was reminded that he held a
considerable amount of money voted by Parliament, he retorted: "That is
for necessitous persons! But you ask me to _lend_ you money!" "Quite so,"
my father replied; "I do not wish to be a charge on the Treasury. I simply
want a loan, as I have a difficult and perhaps an expensive journey before
me." "How much do you want?" snapped the colonel. "Well," said my father,
"I should feel more comfortable if I had a thousand francs (L40) in my
pocket." "Forty pounds!" cried Colonel Walker, as if lost in amazement.
And getting up from his chair he went on, in the most theatrical manner
possible: "Why, do you know, sir, that if I were to let you have forty
pounds, I might find myself in the greatest possible difficulty.
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