or such a coward as to put up with a mean subterfuge
of this sort. Will you, or will you not, pay the money, sir?"

"I will not," said Sam, stoutly; "it's a d----d swin--"

Here Mr. Ringwood sprung up, clenching his riding-whip, and looking so
fierce that Sam and I bounded back to the other end of the room. "Utter
that word again, and, by heaven, I'll murder you!" shouted Mr. Ringwood,
and looked as if he would, too: "once more, will you, or will you not,
pay this money?"

"I can't," said Sam faintly.

"I'll call again, Captain Pogson," said Mr. Ringwood, "I'll call again
in one hour; and, unless you come to some arrangement, you must meet
my friend, the Baron de Florval, or I'll post you for a swindler and
a coward." With this he went out: the door thundered to after him, and
when the clink of his steps departing had subsided, I was enabled to
look round at Pog. The poor little man had his elbows on the marble
table, his head between his hands, and looked, as one has seen gentlemen
look over a steam-vessel off Ramsgate, the wind blowing remarkably
fresh: at last he fairly burst out crying.

"If Mrs. Pogson heard of this," said I, "what would become of the 'Three
Tuns?'" (for I wished to give him a lesson). "If your Ma, who took you
every Sunday to meeting, should know that her boy was paying attention
to married women;--if Drench, Glauber and Co., your employers, were
to know that their confidential agent was a gambler, and unfit to be
trusted with their money, how long do you think your connection would
last with them, and who would afterwards employ you?"

To this poor Pog had not a word of answer; but sat on his sofa
whimpering so bitterly, that the sternest of moralists would have
relented towards him, and would have been touched by the little wretch's
tears. Everything, too, must be pleaded in excuse for this unfortunate
bagman: who, if he wished to pass for a captain, had only done so
because he had an intense respect and longing for rank: if he had
made love to the Baroness, had only done so because he was given to
understand by Lord Byron's "Don Juan" that making love was a very
correct, natty thing: and if he had gambled, had only been induced to
do so by the bright eyes and example of the Baron and the Baroness. O
ye Barons and Baronesses of England! if ye knew what a number of small
commoners are daily occupied in studying your lives, and imitating your
aristocratic ways, how careful would ye be of you