by his band of
tipstaves.

If this were the case with persons who had no immediate ground of
apprehension from him, how much terror his sombre figure must have
inspired, when presented, as it was, to Madame Bonaventure, with the
aspect of a merciless creditor, armed with full power to enforce his
claims, and resolved not to abate a jot of them, will be revealed to the
reader in our next chapter.

CHAPTER III.

The French ordinary.

The month allowed by the notice expired, and Madame Bonaventure's day of
reckoning arrived.

No arrangement had been attempted in the interim, though abundant
opportunities of doing so were afforded her, as Sir Francis Mitchell
visited the Three Cranes almost daily. She appeared to treat the matter
very lightly, always putting it off when mentioned; and even towards the
last seemed quite unconcerned, as if entertaining no fear of the result.
Apparently, everything went on just as usual, and no one would have
supposed, from Madame Bonaventure's manner, that she was aware of the
possibility of a mine being sprung beneath her feet. Perhaps she fancied
she had countermined her opponents, and so felt secure. Her indifference
puzzled Sir Francis, who knew not whether to attribute it to
insensibility or over-confidence. He was curious to see how she would
conduct herself when the crisis came; and for that purpose repaired to
the tavern, about dinner-time, on the appointed day.

The hostess received him very graciously; trifled and jested with him as
was her custom, and looked all blandishments and smiles to him and
everybody else, as if nothing could possibly happen to disturb her
serenity. Sir Francis was more perplexed than ever. With the levity and
heedlessness of a Frenchwoman, she must have forgotten all about the
claim. What if he should venture to remind her of it? Better not. The
application would come soon enough. He was glad it devolved upon his
partner, and not on himself, to proceed to extremities with so charming
a person. He really could not do it. And yet all the while he chuckled
internally as he thought of the terrible dilemma in which she would be
speedily caught, and how completely it would place her at his mercy. She
must come to terms then. And Sir Francis rubbed his skinny hands
gleefully at the thought. On her part, Madame Bonaventure guessed what
was passing in his breast, and secretly enjoyed the idea of checkmating
him. With a captivating smile she left him