ld, he wrote another gentleman's name
instead of his own--eh?"

"It was to a bill," says Mr. Frank, looking very crestfallen, instead of
taking the joke. "His principal creditor wouldn't wait till he could raise
the money, or the greater part of it. But he was resolved, if he sold off
everything, to get the amount and repay----"

"Of course," says I; "drop that. The forgery was discovered. When?"

"Before even the first attempt was made to negotiate the bill. He had done
the whole thing in the most absurdly and innocently wrong way. The person
whose name he had used was a stanch friend of his and a relation of his
wife's--a good man as well as a rich one. He had influence with the chief
creditor, and he used it nobly. He had a real affection for the
unfortunate man's wife, and he proved it generously."

"Come to the point," says I. "What did he do? In a business way, what did
he do?"

"He put the false bill into the fire, drew a bill of his own to replace
it, and then--only then--told my dear girl and her mother all that had
happened. Can you imagine anything nobler?" asks Mr. Frank.

"Speaking in my professional capacity, I can't imagine anything greener,"
says I. "Where was the father? Off, I suppose?"

"Ill in bed," says Mr. Frank, coloring. "But he mustered strength enough
to write a contrite and grateful letter the same day, promising to prove
himself worthy of the noble moderation and forgiveness extended to him, by
selling off everything he possessed to repay his money debt. He did sell
off everything, down to some old family pictures that were heirlooms; down
to the little plate he had; down to the very tables and chairs that
furnished his drawing-room. Every farthing of the debt was paid; and he
was left to begin the world again, with the kindest promises of help from
the generous man who had forgiven him. It was too late. His crime of one
rash moment--atoned for though it had been--preyed upon his mind. He
became possessed with the idea that he had lowered himself forever in the
estimation of his wife and daughter, and----"

"He died," I cut in. "Yes, yes, we know that. Let's go back for a minute
to the contrite and grateful letter that he wrote. My experience in the
law, Mr. Frank, has convinced me that if everybody burned everybody else's
letters, half the courts of justice in this country might shut up shop. Do
you happen to know whether the letter we are now speaking of contained
anything like an a