Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 3

Though it is not a very pleasant transition, the order of events requires us to return to town, and to no very pleasant part of town, viz. Thavies' Inn. 'T was about eight o'clock in the evening, towards the close of October, and Mr. Gammon was walking to and fro about his room, which was rendered sufficiently snug by the light of a lamp and the warmth of a good fire. He himself, however, was very far from being cheerful—he was in a state of exquisite anxiety and suspense—and might well be; for he was at length in momentary expectation of receiving a copy of the evidence which had been taken on the part of Mr. Aubrey, in the ecclesiastical suit. He muttered blighting curses at the intolerable delay of old Mr. Quod, who, Mr. Gammon felt assured, might have procured a copy of the evidence several hours before, with only moderate exertion. Twice had his messenger been despatched in vain; and he was now absent on the third errand to Mr. Quod's chambers. At length Mr. Gammon heard a heavy footstep ascending the stairs—he knew it, and, darting to the door, opened it just as his messenger had reached the landing with a bulky white packet under his arm, sealed, and tied with red tape.

"Ah!—that will do. Thank you, thank you!—call to-morrow morning," said Gammon, hastily, almost snatching the packet out of the man's hand.

"Mrs. Brown—don't let me be disturbed to-night by any one—on any earthly consideration," said he, with feverish impetuosity, to his laundress; and, having ordered her to close the outer door, he re-entered his sitting-room, and with a beating heart burst open the seals, tape, and cartridge-paper, and fastened in an instant with devouring eyes upon the pregnant enclosure. Over page after page he glanced with lightning speed, his breathing unconsciously accelerated the while. When he had got to about the middle of the evidence, his breath was for a minute suspended, while his affrighted eye travelled down a couple of pages, which told him all—all he had feared to see, and more—more than he had known himself. "Ah, perdition—the game is up!" he faintly exclaimed, and, rising from his chair, threw himself down upon the sofa, in a state of dismay and bewilderment which no words of mine are powerful enough to describe.

Quite as much anxiety had been felt on the same subject in a different quarter, during the whole of the day, at the Priory; where were still the Aubreys, who had been joined a week before by Lord and Lady De la Zouch, and by Mr. Delamere, who had come over with them from the Continent. Mr. Runnington had written to assure Mr. Aubrey, that the first moment of his being able to procure a copy of the evidence, he would come down with it in a post-chaise and four. As, however, nine o'clock elapsed without his having made his appearance, Mr. Delamere slipped out, and without announcing his intention, ordered his groom to have his horses in readiness instantly; and within a quarter of an hour's time he was on his way to town, having left a hasty verbal message, acquainting Lord and Lady De la Zouch of the object of his sudden move. When he reached Mr. Runnington's offices, he found no one there, to his infinite disappointment. Having slept in Dover Street, he reappeared at Mr. Runnington's about ten o'clock the next morning, and found a chaise and four at the door, into which Mr. Runnington, with a large packet under his arm, was in the very act of entering, to drive down to the Priory.

"How is it—for God's sake?" said Mr. Delamere, rushing forward to Mr. Runnington, who was sufficiently surprised at seeing him.

"Oh, thank God! The battle's ours!"—replied Mr. Runnington, with delighted excitement. "The murder's out!—I'll pledge my existence that within three months' time we have them all back at Yatton!"

"You're off instantly, are not you?" inquired Delamere, his face blanched with emotion.

"To be sure—won't you come with me?" replied Mr. Runnington.

"Rattle away, my lads, and here's a guinea a-piece for you!" shouted Delamere to the post-boys—and the next moment they were on their way, and at indeed a rapid pace. In somewhere about an hour and a quarter's time, the reeking horses and dusty chaise dashed up to the hall-door of the Priory; and, as Delamere caught one or two figures standing at the windows, he waved his hand in triumph through the chaise-window. That brought Lord and Lady De la Zouch and Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey, breathless to the door—out jumped Delamere, without waiting for the steps to be let down, and, grasping the hands of all four, exclaimed with enthusiasm—"Victory!—victory!—but where is she—?"

"Miss Aubrey's somewhere in the grounds, sir," replied a servant.

"Mr. Runnington will tell you all"—said Delamere; and springing off the step, was out of sight in a twinkling, in quest of Miss Aubrey—burning to be the first with the joyful news. He soon caught sight of her graceful figure—she was standing with her back towards him, apparently in a musing posture, gazing at the bubbling rivulet. Hearing his bounding steps, she turned round, and started at seeing him.

"Oh, Kate, Kate!" he stammered breathlessly, "by Heaven, we've won!"—Miss Aubrey turned very pale.

"Mr. Delamere—you—you—cannot be—I hope you are not mistaken"–said she, faintly.

"On my sacred word of honor, I have seen—I have read it all myself! 'T is as sure as that the sun is shining—The game is up with the villains!" Miss Aubrey made him no answer; her cheek continued white as that of a statue; and it was absolutely necessary that he should put his arm around her—if he had not, she would have fallen.

"Come!—Come! My sweet, my lovely Kate! Rouse yourself!" cried he, with fond anxiety, and pressed his lips gently on her forehead—a liberty of which she was probably not conscious, for she made no show of resistance. Presently she heaved a deep sigh, her eyes opened, and, finding herself entirely in his embrace, she made a slight effort to disengage herself, but in vain. He was supporting her on one knee—for there was no bench or seat within view. She burst into tears, and they soon relieved her pent-up bosom of its excitement.

"Dearest—sweetest Kate—it's glorious news, and I have been too hasty with it!" said he, excitedly.

"No—no—Mr. Delamere! I am only overpowered with joy and with gratitude! Oh, Mr. Delamere, I could sink out of your sight!"

"Pho! my own angel!—Don't make me miserable by talking in that strain!"

"Well, what shall I say?" cried she, passionately, bursting again into tears, and turning her face from him, conscious that it was reddening.

"Say, Kate? That you will let me love you, and will love me in return! Come, my own Kate! Heaven smiles on you—smile you on me!" She spoke not–but sobbed, her face still averted from him.

"I know you won't say me nay, Kate, if it's only for the news I've brought you express"—said Delamere, ardently, and imprinted a passionate kiss on her unresisting lips.

"My sweet Kate! how I have thought of you in every part of the world in which I've been"—commenced Delamere, after having a second and a third and a fourth time pressed his lips upon those of his beautiful and blushing mistress; and Heaven only knows what other absurdities he might have been guilty of, when to Kate's inconceivable embarrassment, behold, a sudden turn brought them full in view of Lord and Lady De la Zouch and Mr. Runnington.

"My dear, dear Miss Aubrey," cried Lord De la Zouch, "we have come to congratulate you on this great event!" and he grasped her affectionately by the hands, and then Lady De la Zouch embraced her future daughter-in-law, whose cheeks burned like fire, while those of Mr. Delamere tingled a little.

"Upon my honor, sir, you seem to have been making hay while the sun shines," said his Lordship, in a low tone, and laughing, having left Miss Aubrey and Lady De la Zouch together for a few moments.

"Dearest Lady De la Zouch, how did Charles bear it?" inquired Miss Aubrey.

"He bore it with calmness, though he turned very pale; but poor Mrs. Aubrey was very painfully excited—it was really a most affecting scene. But she is much better now—shall we return to the house?—By the way," added she, slyly, "now you're come into your fortune, as the saying is, Kate—I—I suppose—eh?—Geoffrey has been talking nonsense to you!" Poor Kate blushed deeply, and burst into tears.

That was a happy—happy day; and Mr. Runnington, having been compelled to stay to dinner, returned home at a late hour feeling already richly repaid for all his exertions. Miss Aubrey sat up for at least a couple of hours in her own room, writing, according to a promise she had made, a very long letter to Dr. Tatham; in which she gave him as full an account as she could, of the surprising and decisive event which had just happened. 'T was quite the letter of a daughter to a fond father—full of ardent affection, and joyous anticipations of seeing him again; but as to the other little incident of the day, which concerned herself personally, Kate paused—laid down her pen—resumed it—blushed—hesitated—trembled—and at length extinguished her taper, and retired to rest, saying to herself that she would think of it, and make up her mind by the morning.

The letter went off, however, after all, without the slightest allusion to the possibility of its lovely writer becoming a future Lady De la Zouch.

But it is now high time that the reader should be put into possession of the important disclosures produced by the ecclesiastical inquiry; and we must for a while lose sight of the happy Aubreys, and also of the gloomy, discomfited Gammon, in order to become acquainted with the exact state of facts which had called forth such violent and opposite emotions.

CHAPTER X

The reader may possibly bear in mind that Mr. Titmouse had established his right to succeed to the Yatton property, then enjoyed by Mr. Aubrey, by making out to the satisfaction of the jury, on the trial at York, that he, the aforesaid Mr. Titmouse, was descended from an elder branch of the Aubrey family; that there had existed an unsuspected female descendant of Stephen Dreddlington, the elder brother of Geoffrey Dreddlington, through whom Mr. Aubrey derived his claim to the succession; and that this obscure female descendant had left issue equally obscure and unsuspected—viz. Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse—to whom our friend Titmouse was shown to be heir-at-law. In fact, it had been made out in open court, by clear and satisfactory evidence, First, that the aforesaid Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse was the direct descendant, through the female line, of Stephen Dreddlington; Secondly, had been shown the marriage of Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse; Thirdly, the birth of Tittlebat Titmouse, the first, and indeed the only issue of that marriage. All these were not only proved, but unquestionable facts; and from them, as far as descent went, the preferable right of Titmouse to that of Aubrey, resulted as an inevitable inference, and the verdict went accordingly. But as soon as, owing to the happy and invaluable suggestion of the Attorney-General, a rigid inquiry had been instituted, on the spot, whence the oral and documentary evidence had been obtained by Mr. Gammon—an inquiry conducted by persons infinitely more familiar with such matters than common lawyers, those acute and indefatigable inquisitors succeeded in making the following remarkable discovery. It was found that the two old witnesses who had been called to prove that part of the case, on the trial, had since died—one of them very recently. But in pushing their inquiries, one or two other old witnesses were met with who had not been called by Mr. Gammon, even if he had been aware of their existence; and one of these, an old man, while being closely interrogated upon another matter, happened to let fall some expressions which startled the person making minutes of the evidence; for he spoke of Mr. Titmouse's mother under three different names, Gubbins, Oakley, and Johnson. Now, the proof of the trial had been simply the marriage of Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse, by bans, to Janet Johnson, spinster. Either, then, both the witnesses must be mistaken as to her having had other names, or there must be some strange mystery at the bottom of it—and so it at length turned out. This woman's maiden name had been Gubbins; then she had married a rope-maker, of the name of Oakley, in Staffordshire, but had separated from him, after two or three years' quarrelsome cohabitation, and gone into Yorkshire, where she had resided for some time with an aunt—in fact, no other person than old Blind Bess! She had subsequently become acquainted with Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse; and to conceal the fact of her previous marriage—her husband being alive at the time—she was married to Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse under the name of "Johnson." Two years afterwards, this exemplary female died, leaving an only child, Tittlebat Titmouse. Shortly afterwards his father came up to London, bringing with him his little son—and some five years subsequently died, leaving one or two hundred pounds behind him for the bringing up of Tittlebat decently—a duty undertaken by a distant relative of his father, and who had been dead some years. Of course, Titmouse, at the time when he was first presented to the reader, knew no more than did the dead of his being in any way connected with the distinguished family of the Aubreys in Yorkshire; nor of the very unpleasant circumstances attending his mother's marriage, with which the reader has just been made acquainted. Nothing can be easier than to conceive how Mr. Gammon might have been able, even if acquainted with the true state of the facts, to produce an impregnable case in court, by calling, with judgment, only that evidence which was requisite to show the marriage of Titmouse's father with Janet Johnson—viz. an examined copy of an entry in the parish register of Grilston; of the fact of the marriage under the names specified; and some other slight evidence of the identity of the parties. How was the Attorney-General, or any one advising him, to have got at the mystery attending the name of "Johnson," in the absence of suspicion pointed precisely at that circumstance? The defendant in an action of ejectment is necessarily in a great measure in the dark as to the evidence which will be adduced against him, and must fight it as it is presented to him in court; and the plaintiff's attorney is generally better advised than to bring into court witnesses who may be able, if pressed, to disclose more than is necessary or desirable!

The way in which Mr. Gammon became acquainted with the true state of the matter, was singular. While engaged in obtaining and arranging the evidence in support of the plaintiff's case, under the guidance of Mr. Lynx's opinion, Mr. Gammon stumbled upon a witness who dropped one or two expressions, which suddenly reminded him of two little documents which had been some time before put into his possession without his having then attached the least importance to them. He was so disturbed at the coincidence, that he returned to town that very night to inspect the papers in question. They had been obtained by Snap from old Blind Bess: in fact, (inter nos,) he had purloined them from her on one of the occasions of his being with her in the manner long ago described, having found them in an old Bible which was in a still older canvas bag; and they consisted of, first, a letter from one James Oakley to his wife, informing her that he was dying, and that, having heard she was living with another man, he exhorted her to leave her wicked courses before she died; secondly, a letter from one Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse to his wife, reproaching her with drunkenness and loose conduct, and saying that she knew as well as he did, that he could transport her any day he liked;16 therefore she had better mind what she was about. This letter was written in the county jail, whither he had been sent for some offence against the game-laws. Old Blind Bess had been very feeble when her niece came to live with her; and, though aware of her profligate conduct, had never dreamed of the connection between the great family at the Hall and her niece's child. These were the two documents which Mr. Titmouse had destroyed, on Gammon's having intrusted them for a moment into his hands!—Though I do not attach so much importance to them as Mr. Gammon did—since I cannot see how they could have been made available evidence for any purpose contemplated by Gammon—I am not surprised at his having done so. They were infinitely too dangerous documents to admit of his taking the opinion of counsel upon; he therefore kept them entirely to himself, as also the discovery to which they led, not trusting his secret, even to either of his partners. Before the case had come into court, Mr. Gammon had been in possession of the facts now laid for the first time before the reader—contemplating, even then, the use to be thereafter made of the prodigious power he should have become possessed of, in aid of his own personal advancement. Thus was Titmouse base-born indeed—in fact, doubly illegitimate; for, first, his mother had been guilty of bigamy in marrying his father; and, secondly, even had that not been so, her marrying under a false name17 had been sufficient to make the marriage utterly void, and equally of course to bastardize her issue.

Such, then, was the damning discovery effected by the ecclesiastical commission, and which would by-and-by blazon to the whole world the astounding fact, that this doubly base-born little wretch had been enabled, by the profound machinations of Mr. Gammon, not only to deprive Mr. Aubrey of the Yatton estates, but also to intermarry with the Lady Cecilia, the last of the direct line of the noble Dreddlingtons and Drelincourts—to defile the blood, and blight the honor, of perhaps the oldest and the proudest of the nobility of England. Upon Mr. Gammon, it lit like a thunderbolt. For many hours he seemed to have been utterly crushed and blasted by it. His faculties appeared paralyzed. He was totally incapable of realizing his position—of contemplating the prodigious and appalling consequences which must inevitably and almost immediately ensue upon this discovery of his secret. He lay upon the sofa the whole night without closing his eyes, or having moved a muscle since he had thrown himself down upon it. His laundress came in with his bed-candle, trimmed the lamp, stirred the fire, and withdrew, supposing him asleep. The fire went out—then the lamp—and when, about eight o'clock the next morning, his laundress reappeared, he still lay on the sofa; and a glimpse of his pale and haggard face alarmed her greatly, and she went for a medical man before he was aware of her having done so. On her returning, and informing him of what she had done, it roused him from his lethargy, and, starting from the sofa, he desired her to go back and request the medical man not to come, as it was unnecessary. Heaving profound sighs, he proceeded to his dressing-room, got through his toilet, and then sat down to the breakfast-table, and for the first time made a very powerful effort to address his thoughts steadily to the awful nature of the emergency into which he was driven. Mr. Quod soon after made his appearance.

"This is a very—very—ugly business, Mr. Gammon!" quoth he, with a gloomy countenance. "I look upon it there's an end to the suit—eh?"

"It is not likely that we shall stir further, certainly," replied Mr. Gammon, with a desperate effort to speak calmly: then there was a pause.

"And I should think the matter can't end here," presently added Mr. Quod. "With such evidence as this, of course they'll attack Yatton!"

"Then I am prepared to resist them," said Gammon; convinced in his own mind that the sole object of Mr. Quod's visit was to see after the payment of his bill—a reasonable anxiety, surely, considering the untoward issue of the proceedings.

"How could all this have escaped me, in getting up the case for the trial?" said Gammon, after a while, darting an anxious and furtive glance at his companion.

"Ay—I hope this will teach you common-law fellows that there's a trick or two worth knowing at Doctor's Commons!" replied Mr. Quod. "D'ye remember what I told you at starting?—How was it, d'ye say, you couldn't find it out? No one could, till we did!—But, by the way, do we fight anymore in the cause? Because we must decide at once—it's no use, I should say, going to the expense of a hearing"–

"I will give you an answer in the course of the day, Mr. Quod," replied Gammon, with an air of repressed fury; and succeeded in getting rid of his matter-of-fact but anxious visitor for the present; and then reperused the whole of the evidence, and considered within himself, as well as he was able, what course he ought to pursue. He had need, truly, to do so; for he very shortly found that he had to deal with an enemy in Mr. Runnington—uncompromising and unrelenting—whose movements were equally prompt, vigorous, and skilful. That gentleman, following up his blow, and acting under the advice of Sir Charles Wolstenholme, who had just returned to town for the commencement of the legal year—viz. Michaelmas Term—first of all gave notice, through Mr. Pounce, of his intention to proceed with the suit for administration; but found that the enemy in that quarter had struck; Mr. Quod formally notified his abandonment of opposition on the part of Mr. Titmouse. So far so good. Mr. Runnington's next step was to go down into Staffordshire and Yorkshire, accompanied by Mr. Pounce, and by his own experienced confidential clerk, in order to ascertain still more distinctly and conclusively the nature of the evidence which was in existence impeaching the legitimacy of Mr. Titmouse. His inquiries were so satisfactory, that, within a week of his return to town, he had caused an action of ejectment to be brought for the recovery of the whole of the Yatton property; and copies of the "Declaration" to be served on Mr. Titmouse, and on every tenant in possession upon the estate. Then he served notices on them, calling upon each and every one of them not to pay rent in future to any one except Charles Aubrey, Esquire, or his agents by him lawfully appointed; and caused a formal demand of the title-deeds of the estate to be forthwith made upon Mr. Titmouse, Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son, and Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap; and also advertisements to be inserted in the newspapers, to caution all persons against advancing money on mortgage or on other security of the Yatton property, "formerly in possession of, and now claimed by, Charles Aubrey, Esq., but at present wrongfully held by Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., M.P., and for the recovery of which an action of ejectment has been commenced, and is now pending;" and also from advancing money "on the faith or security of a certain bond conditioned in the penalty of £20,000 for the payment to Tittlebat Titmouse of £10,000, with interest, on or before the 24th day of January next, and dated the 26th July, 18—, and signed by Lord De la Zouch and Charles Aubrey, Esq., the same having been obtained by undue means, and on a false and fraudulent pretence of money being due from the said Charles Aubrey, Esq., to the aforesaid Tittlebat Titmouse." These advertisements, and certain paragraphs relating to the same matter, which found their way into the newspapers, to the consternation of Gammon, came under the eye of the Duke of Tantallan, and struck him dumb with dismay and horror at so decisive and public a corroboration of his worst fears. A similar effect they produced upon Miss Macspleuchan, who, however, succeeded in keeping them for some time from the observation of the unfortunate Earl of Dreddlington. But there were certain other persons in whom these announcements produced an amazing degree of consternation; viz. three Jewish gentlemen, Mordecai Gripe, Mephibosheth Mahar-shalal-hash-baz, and Israel Fang, who were at present the depositaries of Mr. Titmouse's title-deeds, with a lien upon them, as they had fondly imagined, to the extent of nearly seventy thousand pounds—that being the amount of money they had advanced, in hard cash, to Mr. Titmouse, upon mortgage of his Yatton estates. The last of these unfortunate gentlemen—old Mr. Fang—had advanced no less a sum than twenty thousand pounds. He had been the first applied to, and had most fortunately taken a collateral security for the whole sum advanced; viz. a bond—the bond of our old friend, "Thomas Tag-rag, draper and mercer, of No. 375 Oxford Street, and Satin Lodge, Clapham, in the county of Surrey." As soon as ever the dismayed Israelite, by his attorney, had ascertained, by inquiry at the office of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap—where all was confusion—that there really was a claim set up to the whole of the estates, on behalf of him who had been so recently and suddenly dispossessed of them, he exclaimed in an ecstasy, "Oh, ma Got! oh, ma dear Got! Shoo Tag-rag! Shoo on the bond! Looshe no time"–and he was obeyed. Terrible to tell, two big bum-bailiffs the next day walked straight into the shop of Mr. Tag-rag, who was sitting in his little closet at the farther end, with his pen in his hand, busily checking some bills just made out, and without the least ceremony or hesitation hauled him off, hardly giving him time to put his hat on, but gruffly uttering in his ear some such astounding words as "Thirty thousand pounds!" He resisted desperately, shouting out for help; on which all the young men jumped over the counters, and seemed to be coming to the rescue! while one or two female customers rushed affrighted into the street. In short, there was a perfect panic in the shop; though the young men merely crowded round, and clamored loudly, without venturing upon a conflict with the two burly myrmidons of the law, who clapped their prize into a coach standing opposite—Mr. Tag-rag frothing at the mouth, and with impassioned gesticulation, protesting that he would have them both transported to Botany Bay on the morrow. They laughed at him good-humoredly, and in due time deposited him safely in the lock-up of Mr. Vice, who, on seeing that he was disposed to be troublesome, thrust him unceremoniously into the large room in which, it may be recollected, Mr. Aubrey had been for a few minutes incarcerated, and left him, telling him he might write to his attorney. There he continued for a long while in a state bordering on frenzy. Indeed, he must have fancied that the devil had made it, just then, his particular business to worry and ruin him; for what do you think had happened to him only two days before? an event which had convulsed Clapham to its centre—so much, at least, of Clapham as knew of the existence of the Tag-rags and the Reverend Dismal Horror, his chapel and congregation. That young shepherd of faithful souls having long cherished feelings of ardent fondness towards one gentle lamb in his flock in particular—viz. Tabitha Tag-rag—who was the only child of the wealthiest member of his little church—took upon himself to lead her, nothing loath, a very long and pleasant ramble—in plain English, Mr. Dismal Horror had eloped with the daughter of his head deacon—to the infinite scandal and disgust of his congregation, who forthwith met and deposed him from his pulpit; after which his father-in-law solemnly made his will, bequeathing everything he had to a newly-established Dissenters' college; and the next day—being just about the time that the grim priest of Gretna was forging the bonds of Hymen for the happy and lovely couple before him, Mr. Tag-rag was hauled off in the way which I have mentioned—which two occurrences would have the effect of enabling Mr. Dismal Horror to prove the disinterestedness of his attachment—an opportunity for which he vowed that he panted—inasmuch as he and she had become, indeed, all the world to each other. He must now go into some other line of business, in order to support his fond and lovely wife; and, as for Tag-rag, his pious purposes were frustrated altogether. There was no impeaching the validity of the bond held by the infuriate and inexorable Jew who had arrested him, and who clearly had been no party to any fraud by which—if any—the signature of Mr. Tag-rag had been procured. Mr. Tag-rag's attorney, Mr. Snout, instantly called upon Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, to inquire into the particulars of the astounding transaction by which his client had been drawn into so ruinous a liability—but was very cavalierly treated; for he was informed that Mr. Tag-rag must, in their opinion, have lost his senses—at all events his memory; for that he had most deliberately executed the bond, after its nature had been fully explained to him by Mr. Gammon—and his signature was witnessed and attested in the usual way by a clerk in the office, and also in the presence of all the three partners. On hearing all this—and examining Mr. Amminadab, who stated without any hesitation, as the fact in truth was, that he had been called in specially to witness Mr. Tag-rag's execution of the bond, and had seen and heard him sign,18 and say he delivered it as his act and deed—Mr. Snout hurried back to his frenzied client, and endeavored, for a long while, with praiseworthy patience, to reason with him; explaining to him the glaring improbability of his version of the affair. This led to very high words indeed between them, and at length Mr. Tag-rag actually spit in his face. Mr. Snout, being a very little man, and unable to resent the vile insult effectually, instantly quitted the room, expressing his firm belief that Mr. Tag-rag was a swindler, and he would no more be concerned for a person of that description. Mr. Tag-rag could not procure bail for so fearful an amount; so he committed an act of bankruptcy, by remaining in prison for three weeks. Down, then, came all his creditors upon him in a heap, especially the Jew; a rattling bankruptcy ensued—the upshot of the whole being—to anticipate, however, a little—that a first and final dividend was declared of three farthings in the pound—for it turned out that friend Tag-rag had been, like many of his betters, speculating a great deal more than any one had had the least idea of. I ought, however, to have mentioned that, as soon as he had become bankrupt, and his assignees had been appointed, they caused an indictment to be preferred against Mr. Titmouse, and Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, for fraud and conspiracy in obtaining the bond from Mr. Tag-rag; and on the same grounds, made an application, fortified by strong affidavits, to the Lord Chancellor, to strike the last three gentlemen off the rolls. In addition to all this, the two other unfortunate mortgagees, Mordecai Gripe, and Mephibosheth Mahar-shalal-hash-baz—who had no security at all for their advances except the title-deeds of the estate, and the personal covenant of Mr. Titmouse—beset the office in Saffron Hill from morning to night, like frantic fiends, and nearly drove poor old Mr. Quirk out of his senses. Mr. Snap was peremptory and insolent; while Gammon seldom made his appearance—and would see no one at his private residence, pleading serious indisposition.