"Monsieur," began the Snowman with almost brutal clarity, "the firm of Bombadil and Forn has bought from M. Boromir, inspector of prisons, a debt in your name for 200, 000 floquerins. In addition, we have bought your debts from the firms of Azaghâl, Thorinowitz, and Chubbes, adding up to a total of 287, 500 floquerins and a pound of flesh. And, without casting doubt in your probity, the rumor in Hobbitonne is that you are no longer in state to carry out your affairs with expensive women."
M. Morrie bowed his head in shame, and murmured, "I feared it was so."
"Will you pay these bills?"
"Monsieur, I must reply frankly. I will pay if my vessel the Pharazon comes as the songs tell us it will. But should the prophecies fail..." Morrie broke off, his face wrung with pain, as if he had been stabbed in the heart; tears were in his eyes.
"No other hope remains?"
"None. A fool's hope, my creditors tell me."
At this moment, Bilbette rushed in.
