e bill is not worth
a rush."

"Why, you don't mean--?"

"I mean simply that the acceptance is, I'll lay you a wager, a forgery."

"A forgery!"

"A forgery," I repeated as distinctly as possible.

Mr. Jones hastily, and with broken ejaculations, called for the
cash-box. With trembling hands he took out the bill, and followed my
finger with eager, watchful eyes, as I pointed out the proofs of my
assertion. A long pause was broken by my mocking laugh; for, at the
moment, my sense of politeness could not restrain my satisfaction at the
signal defeat which had attended the first experiment of these highly
respectable gentlemen in the science of usury.

The partners did not have recourse to the police. They did not propose a
consultation with either Mr. Forrester or Mr. Field; but they took
certain steps, under my recommendation; the result of which was that at
an early day, an aunt of the Honorable Miss Snape was driven, to save so
near a connection from transportation, to sell out some fourteen hundred
pounds of stock, and all the forgeries were taken up.

One would have thought that the lady who had thus so narrowly escaped,
had had enough; but forgery, like opium-eating, is one of those charming
vices which is never abandoned, when once adopted. The forger enjoys not
only the pleasure of obtaining money so easily, but the triumph of
befooling sharp men of the world. Dexterous penmanship is a source of
the same sort of pride as that which animates the skilful rifleman, the
practised duellist, or well-trained billiard-player. With a clean
Gillott he fetches down a capitalist, at three or six months, for a cool
hundred or a round thousand; just as a Scrope drops over a stag at ten,
or a Gordon Cumming a monstrous male elephant at a hundred paces.

As I before observed, my connection, especially lies among the
improvident--among those who will be ruined--who are being ruined--and
who have been ruined. To the last class belongs Francis Fisherton, once
a gentleman, now without a shilling or a principle; but rich in mother
wit--in fact a _farceur_, after Paul de Kock's own heart. Having in
bygone days been one of my willing victims, he occasionally finds
pleasure and profit in guiding others through the gate he frequented, as
long as able to pay the tolls. In truth, he is what is called a
"discount agent."

One day I received a note from him, to say that he would call on me at
three o'clock the next day, to introduce