itself down at the Morgue. But for this I will not vouch. Only of this
be sure. 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are
dreamed of in your philosophy.' More and more the light peeps through
the chinks. Soon, amidst music ravishing, the curtain will rise, and the
glorious scene be displayed. Adieu! Remember me. Ha! 'tis dawn," Pinto
said. And he was gone.

I am ashamed to say that my first movement was to clutch the cheque
which he had left with me, and which I was determined to present the
very moment the bank opened. I know the importance of these things, and
that men CHANGE THEIR MIND sometimes. I sprang through the streets to
the great banking house of Manasseh in Duke Street. It seemed to me as
if I actually flew as I walked. As the clock struck ten I was at the
counter and laid down my cheque.

The gentleman who received it, who was one of the Hebrew persuasion, as
were the other two hundred clerks of the establishment, having looked at
the draft with terror in his countenance, then looked at me, then called
to himself two of his fellow-clerks, and queer it was to see all their
aquiline beaks over the paper.

"Come, come!" said I, "don't keep me here all day. Hand me over the
money, short, if you please!" for I was, you see, a little alarmed, and
so determined to assume some extra bluster.

"Will you have the kindness to step into the parlor to the partners?"
the clerk said, and I followed him.

"What, AGAIN?" shrieked a bald-headed, red-whiskered gentleman, whom I
knew to be Mr. Manasseh. "Mr. Salathiel, this is too bad! Leave me with
this gentleman, S." And the clerk disappeared.

"Sir," he said, "I know how you came by this; the Count de Pinto gave it
you. It is too bad! I honor my parents; I honor THEIR parents; I honor
their bills! But this one of grandma's is too bad--it is, upon my word
now! She've been dead these five-and-thirty years. And this last four
months she has left her burial-place and took to drawing on our 'ouse!
It's too bad, grandma; it is too bad!" and he appealed to me, and tears
actually trickled down his nose.

"Is it the Countess Sidonia's cheque or not?" I asked, haughtily.

"But, I tell you, she's dead! It's a shame!--it's a shame!--it is,
grandmamma!" and he cried, and wiped his great nose in his yellow
pocket-handkerchief. "Look year--will you take pounds instead of
guineas? She's dead, I tell you! It's no go! Take the pounds--one
tausend pound!--ten nic