of this acknowledged weakness, a brisk trade over the
counter had been produced; and though the firm had never owned a
large stock, an unremitting sale was maintained of small goods,
such as ribbons, stockings, handkerchiefs, and cotton gloves. The
Katakarion shirts also had been successful, and now there was a hope
that, during the coming winter, something might be done in African
monkey muffs. At that time, therefore, the bill of the house at three
months, though not to be regarded as a bank-note, was not absolutely
waste paper. How far Brisket's eyes were open on this matter cannot
now be said; but he still expressed himself willing to take one
hundred pounds in cash, and the remainder of Maryanne's fortune in
the bill of the firm at three months.

And then Mr. Brisket made a third visit to Bishopsgate Street. On all
these occasions he passed by the door of the little room in which
Robinson sat, and well did his late rival know his ponderous step.
His late rival;--for Brisket was now welcome to come and go. "Mr.
Brown!" said he, on one occasion, "I have come here to have a
settlement about this thing at once."

"I've been ill, Brisket; very ill, you know," said Mr. Brown,
pleadingly, "and I'm not strong now."

"But that can't make no difference about the money. Maryanne is
willing, and me also. When Christmas is coming on, it's a busy time
in our trade, and I can't be minding that sort of thing then. If
you've got the cash ready, and that bit of paper, we'll have it off
next week."

"I've never spoken to him about the paper;" and Mr. Brown, as he
uttered these words, pointed down towards the room in which Robinson
was sitting.

"Then you'd better," said Brisket. "For I shan't come here again
after to-day. I'll see it out now one way or the other, and so I've
told Maryanne."

Mr. Brown's sigh, when he heard these words, was prolonged and deep.
"You heard what he said that night," continued Brisket. "You ask him.
He's game for anything of that sort."

All these words Robinson had overheard, for the doors of the two
rooms were close together, and neither of them had been absolutely
closed. Now was the moment in which it behoved him to act. No false
delicacy as to the nature of the conversation between his partner and
that partner's proposed son-in-law withheld him; but rising from his
seat, he walked straight into the upper room.

"Here he is, by jingo," said Brisket. "Talk of the--"

"Speak of an angel and