rchester's cockerel for a hundred guineas. Faith! I am too busy
backing the Monmouth rooster for the champion stakes. Another asking me
to chase the stag at Epping. Zounds! had I not cleared off I should
have been run down myself, with a pack of bandog bailiffs at my heels.
A dunning letter from my clothier. He can afford to lose this bill.
He hath had many a long one out of me. An offer of three thousand from
little Dicky Chichester. No, no, Dicky, it won't do. A gentleman can't
live upon his friends. None the less grateful. How now? From Mrs.
Butterworth! No money for three weeks! Bailiffs in the house! Now, curse
me, if this is not too bad!'

'What is the matter?' I asked, glancing up from my own letters. The
baronet's pale face had taken a tinge of red, and he was striding
furiously up and down the bedroom with a letter crumpled up in his hand.

'It is a burning shame, Clarke,' he cried. 'Hang it, she shall have my
watch. It is by Tompion, of the sign of the Three Crowns in Paul's
Yard, and cost a hundred when new. It should keep her for a few months.
Mortimer shall measure swords with me for this. I shall write villain
upon him with my rapier's point.'

'I have never seen you ruffled before,' said I.

'No,' he answered, laughing. 'Many have lived with me for years and
would give me a certificate for temper. But this is too much. Sir Edward
Mortimer is my mother's younger brother, Clarke, but he is not many
years older than myself. A proper, strait-laced, soft-voiced lad he has
ever been, and, as a consequence, he throve in the world, and joined
land to land after the scriptural fashion. I had befriended him from my
purse in the old days, but he soon came to be a richer man than I, for
all that he gained he kept, whereas all I got--well, it went off like
the smoke of the pipe which you are lighting. When I found that all was
up with me I received from Mortimer an advance, which was sufficient to
take me according to my wish over to Virginia, together with a horse and
a personal outfit. There was some chance, Clarke, of the Jerome acres
going to him should aught befall me, so that he was not averse to
helping me off to a land of fevers and scalping knives. Nay, never shake
your head, my dear country lad, you little know the wiles of the world.'

'Give him credit for the best until the worst is proved,' said I,
sitting up in bed smoking, with my letters littered about in front of
me.

'The worst _is_ proved,' sa