CHAPTER XIII.

"COME, Quickset, you are a good mimic, you do the next."

THE FASHIONABLE FORGER.

I am an attorney and a bill-discounter. As it is my vocation to lend money at high interest to extravagant people, my connexion principally lies among "fools," sometimes among rogues "of quality." Mine is a pursuit which a prejudiced world either holds in sovereign contempt, or visits with envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness; but, to my mind, there are many callings, with finer names, that are no better. It gives me two things which I love -money and power; but I cannot deny that it brings with it a bad name. The case lies between character and money, and involves a matter of taste. Some people like character; I prefer money.

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If I am hated and despised, I chuckle over the per contra." I find it pleasant for members of a proud aristocracy to condescend from their high estate to fawn, feign, flatter; to affect even mirthful familiarity in order to gain my good-will. I am no Shylock. No client can accuse me of desiring either his flesh or his blood. Sentimental vengeance is no item in my stock in trade. Gold and banknotes satisfy my "rage;" or, if need be, a good mortgage. Far from seeking revenge, the worst defaulter I ever had dealings with cannot deny that I am always willing to accept a good post-obit.

I say again, I am daily brought in contact with

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all ranks of society, from the poverty-stricken patentee to the peer; and I am no more surprised at receiving an application from a duchess than from a pet opera-dancer. In my ante-room wait, at this moment, a crowd of borrowers. Among the men, beardless folly and moustachioed craft are most prominent there is a handsome young fellow, with an elaborate cane and wonderfully vacant countenance, who is anticipating, in feeble follies, an estate that has been in the possession of his ancestors since the reign of Harry the Eighth. There is a hairy, highnosed, broken-down non-descript, in appearance something between a horse-dealer and a pugilist. He is an old Etonian. Five years ago he drove his four in hand; he is now waiting to beg a sovereign, having been just discharged from the Insolvent Court, for the second time. Among the women is a pretty actress, who, a year since, looked forward to a supper of steak and onions, with bottled stout, on a Saturday night, as a great treat; now she finds one hundred pounds a month insufficient to pay her wine-merchant and her confectioner. So I am

obliged to deal with each case according to its peculiarities. Genuine undeserved Ruin seldom knocks at my door. Mine is a perpetual battle with people who imbibe trickery at the same rate as they dissolve their fortunes. I am a hard man, of course. I should not be fit for my pursuit if I were not; but when, by a remote chance, honest misfortune pays me a visit, as Rothschild amused himself at times by giving a beggar a guinea, so I occasionally treat myself to the luxury of doing a kind action.

My favourite subjects for this unnatural generosity are, the very young, or the poor, innocent, helpless people, who are unfit for the war of life. Many among my clients (especially those tempered in the

❝ice-brook” of fashion and high life-polished and passionless) would be too much for me, if I had not made the face, the eye, the accent, as much my study as the mere legal and financial points of discount. To show what I mean, I will relate what happened to me not long since :

room.

One day, a middle aged man, in the usual costume of a West-end shopman, who had sent in his name as Mr. Axminster, was shown into my private After a little hesitation, he said, "Although you do not know me, living at this end of the town, I know you very well by reputation, and that you discount bills. I have a bill here which I want to get discounted. I am in the employ of Messrs. Russle and Smooth. The bill is drawn by one of our best customers, the Hon. Miss Snaffleton, niece of Lord Blimley, and accepted by Major Mumchance, whom, no doubt, you know by name. She has dealt with us for some years, is very, very extravagant, but always pays." ." He put the acceptance-which was for two hundred pounds-into my hands.

I looked at it as scrutinisingly as I usually do at such paper. The Major's signature was familiar to me; but having succeeded to a great estate, he has long ceased to be a customer. I instantly detected a forgery; by whom? was the question. Could it be the man before me ?-experience told me no.

Perhaps there was something in the expression of my countenance which Mr. Axminster did not like, for he said, "It is good for the amount, I presume?" I replied, "Pray sir, from whom did you get this bill?"

"From Miss Snaffleton herself."

Have you circulated any other bills made by the same drawer?"

"O yes!" said the draper, without hesitation;

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"I have paid away a bill for one hundred pounds to Mr. Sparkle, the jeweller, to whom Miss Snaffleton owed twenty pounds. He gave me the difference." "And how long has that bill to run now?" "About a fortnight."

"Did you endorse it?"

"I did," continued the shopman. "Mr. Sparkle required me to do so, to show that the bill came properly into his possession."

"This second bill, you say, is urgently required to enable Miss Snaffleton to leave town?

"Yes; she is going to Brighton for the winter.” I gave Mr. Axminster a steady, piercing look of inquiry. "Pray, sir," I said, "could you meet that one hundred pound bill, supposing it should not be paid by the acceptor?"

"Meet it!" The poor fellow wiped from his forehead the perspiration which suddenly broke out at the bare hint of a probability that the bill would be dishonoured: "Meet it! Oh no! I am a married man, with a family, and have nothing but my salary to depend on.”

"Then the sooner you get it taken up, and the less you have to do with Miss Snaffleton's bill affairs the better."

"She has always been punctual hitherto.”

"That may be." I pointed to the cross-writing on the document, and said deliberately-" This bill is a forgery!"

At these words the poor man turned pale. He snatched up the document, and, with many coherent protestations, was rushing towards the door, when I called to him, in an authoritative tone, to stop. He paused; his manner indicating not only doubt, but fear. I said to him, "Don't flurry yourself; I only want to serve you. You tell me that you are

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a married man with children, dependent on daily labour for daily bread, and that you have done a little discounting for Miss Snaffleton out of your earnings. Now, although I am a bill discounter, I don't like to see such men victimised. Look at the body of this bill, look at the signature of your lady customer, the drawer. Don't you detect the same fine, thin, sharp-pointed hand-writing in the words, 'Accepted, Dymmock Mumchance.'"

The man, convinced against his will, was at first overcome. When he recovered, he raved: he would expose the Honourable Miss Snaffleton, if it cost him his bread-he would go at once to the police office.

I stopped him by saying, roughly, “Don't be a fool. Any such steps would seal your ruin. Take my advice; return the bill to the lady, saying simply, that you cannot get it discounted. Leave the rest to me, and I think the bill you have endorsed to Sparkle will be paid." Comforted by this assurance, Axminster, fearfully changed from the nervous but smug hopeful man of the morning, departed.

It now remained for me to exert what skill I own, to bring about the desired result. I lost no time in writing a letter to the Honourable Miss Snaffleton, of which the following is a copy :

"Madam,-A bill, purporting to be drawn by you, has been offered to me for discount. There is something wrong about it; and, though a stranger to you, I advise you to lose no time in getting it back into your own hands.-D. D.”

I intended to deal with the affair quietly, and without any view to profit. The fact is, that I was sorry you may laugh-but I really was sorry to think that a young girl might have given way to