lice. Do you but give
information of what she has stolen, and they'll lay hands upon her,
trust me. Here! Help!'

'No, no, no!' screamed the old man, putting his hand on Ralph's mouth.
'I can't, I daren't.'

'Help! help!' cried Ralph.

'No, no, no!' shrieked the other, stamping on the ground with the energy
of a madman. 'I tell you no. I daren't, I daren't!'

'Daren't make this robbery public?' said Ralph.

'No!' rejoined Gride, wringing his hands. 'Hush! Hush! Not a word of
this; not a word must be said. I am undone. Whichever way I turn, I am
undone. I am betrayed. I shall be given up. I shall die in Newgate!'

With frantic exclamations such as these, and with many others in which
fear, grief, and rage, were strangely blended, the panic-stricken wretch
gradually subdued his first loud outcry, until it had softened down into
a low despairing moan, chequered now and then by a howl, as, going over
such papers as were left in the chest, he discovered some new loss.
With very little excuse for departing so abruptly, Ralph left him, and,
greatly disappointing the loiterers outside the house by telling them
there was nothing the matter, got into the coach, and was driven to his
own home.

A letter lay on his table. He let it lie there for some time, as if he
had not the courage to open it, but at length did so and turned deadly
pale.

'The worst has happened,' he said; 'the house has failed. I see. The
rumour was abroad in the city last night, and reached the ears of those
merchants. Well, well!'

He strode violently up and down the room and stopped again.

'Ten thousand pounds! And only lying there for a day--for one day! How
many anxious years, how many pinching days and sleepless nights, before
I scraped together that ten thousand pounds!--Ten thousand pounds! How
many proud painted dames would have fawned and smiled, and how many
spendthrift blockheads done me lip-service to my face and cursed me in
their hearts, while I turned that ten thousand pounds into twenty! While
I ground, and pinched, and used these needy borrowers for my pleasure
and profit, what smooth-tongued speeches, and courteous looks, and civil
letters, they would have given me! The cant of the lying world is,
that men like me compass our riches by dissimulation and treachery:
by fawning, cringing, and stooping. Why, how many lies, what mean and
abject evasions, what humbled behaviour from upstarts who, but for my
money, would spurn me aside