ed and forty-three pounds, bank annuities
transferred, as per will, to the two ladies legatees. As the munificent
_douceur_ of a thousand pounds a-piece had (for the present) stopped the
mouths of those supposititious nieces, who stipulated for not a farthing
more nor less, clever John Dillaway a second time had the filial
opportunity of rejoicing his father's heart by this wholesale
money-making. Ten thousand pounds bank stock was manifestly another good
day's work; and seeing our John had not appeared at all in the
transaction, even as the ladies' stock-broker, things were made so safe,
that the chuckling knight, when he heard all this (albeit he did
tenderly fy, fy a little at first), was soon induced to think "my son
Jack" the very best boy and the very cleverest dog in Christendom: at
once a parent's pride and joy. Yes, Lady Dillaway--such a comfort! And
the worshipful stationer apostrophized "rich Jack" with lips that seemed
to smack of Creasy's Brighton sauce, whilst his calm spouse appeared to
acquiesce in her amiable John's good fortune. The mystified mother
little guessed that it was felony.

This good son's new-born wealth, besides the now liberal paternal
largess (for his allowance grew larger in proportion as he might seem to
need it less), of course availed to introduce him to some fashionable
and estimable circles of society, whither it might not at all times be
discreet in us to follow him; amongst other places, whether or not the
Pandemonium in Jermyn street proved to him another gold mine, we have
not yet heard; but John Dillaway was often there, the intimate friend of
many splendid cavaliers who lived upon their industry, familiar with a
whole rookery of blacklegs, patron of two or three pigeonable city
sparks, and, on the whole, flusher of money than ever. His quiet mother,
if she cared about her son at all, and probably she did care when her
health permitted, might well be apprehensive on the score of that
increasing wealth which made the father's joy.

However, with all his prosperity Mr. John as yet professed himself by no
means satisfied; he was far too greedy of gain, and ever since he had
come to man's estate, had amiably longed to be an only child. Not that
he heeded a monopoly of the parental feelings and affections, nor even
that he meditated murdering Maria--oh dear, no: rather too troublesome
that, and quite unnecessary; it would be entirely sufficient if he could
manage so to influence h