At length the dark gentleman took his departure for London, whither we
shall follow him, and watch his proceedings for a very short time,
before returning to the principal scene of our tale.

Almost immediately on his arrival in the great city, he betook himself
to the West End, and there, in a fashionable square, solicited an
interview with an old lady, whose principal noteworthy points were that
she had much gold and not much brains. She was a confiding old lady,
and had, on a previous occasion, been quite won by the insinuating
address of the "charming Mr Clearemout," who had been introduced to her
by a noble lord.

To this confiding old lady George Augustus painted Cornish mines and
mining in the most glowing colours, and recommended her to invest in a
mine a portion of her surplus funds. The confiding old lady had no
taste for speculation, and was rather partial to the three per cent
consols, but George Augustus was so charmingly persuasive that she could
not help giving in--so George proposed little plans, and opened up
little prospects, and the confiding old lady agreed to all the little
plans without paying much regard to the little prospects.

After this Mr Clearemout paid another visit in another West End
square--this time to a gentleman. The gentleman was young and noble,
for Clearemout styled him "My lord." Strange to say he also was of a
confiding nature--very much so indeed--and appeared to be even more
completely under the influence of George Augustus than the confiding old
lady herself.

For the benefit of this young gentleman Mr Clearemout painted the same
picture in the same glowing colours, which colours seemed to grow warmer
as the sun of success rose upon it. He added something about the value
of a name, and referred to money as being a matter of small consequence
in comparison. The young lord, like the old lady, agreed to everything
that was proposed to him, except the proposal to advance money. On that
point he was resolute, but Clearemout did not care much about obtaining
money from the confiding young gentleman. His name was as good as gold,
and would enable him to screw money out of others.

After this the dark man paid a visit to several other friends at the
West End, all of whom were more or less confiding--some with selfish,
others with unselfish, dispositions--but all, without exception, a
little weak intellectually. These had the same glowing pictures of a
Cornish mine laid