Pesca. We don’t want genius in this country, unless it is accompanied by respectability⁠—and then we are very glad to have it, very glad indeed. Can your friend produce testimonials⁠—letters that speak to his character?’ I wave my hand negligently. ‘Letters?’ I say. ‘Ha! my-soul-bless-my-soul! I should think so, indeed! Volumes of letters and portfolios of testimonials, if you like!’ ‘One or two will do,’ says this man of phlegm and money. ‘Let him send them to me, with his name and address. And⁠—stop, stop, Mr. Pesca⁠—before you go to your friend, you had better take a note.’ ‘Banknote!’ I say, indignantly. ‘No banknote, if you please, till my brave Englishman has earned it first.’ ‘Banknote!’ says Papa, in a great surprise, ‘who talked of banknote? I mean a note of the terms⁠—a memorandum of what he is expected to do. Go on with your lesson, Mr.