"Count Antonio Ferrari--that was the name; a hoary old sinner with a pedigree that nearly reached to Adam, and as rich and miserly as Shylock.

He bid high for the girl, I can tell you that, but I believe our friend Saul had a tough job to get her to marry him." "He is a greater brute than I thought him," returned Malcolm in a disgusted tone.

"That poor girl!" Then Hugh Rossiter looked grave.
"It was a bit rough on her, but Jacobi was in Queer Street just then, and the old fellow gave him a helping hand." "Jacobi is an Italian Jew, is he not ?" Mr.Rossiter nodded.
"Yes, his father was an artist model in Rome--a fine-looking old fellow, I believe--and his mother sold flowers in the market.

Some one told me she had been a model too, and that they were rather a shady couple; but peace to their manes! They have joined the majority long ago." "And Saul Jacobi was a billiard-marker ?" "Yes, till they turned him out; and then he became valet to a young millionaire who had more dollars than brains.

I was shooting grizzlies in the Rockies then, and did not come across him again until eighteen months ago.