day afternoon, I went to the Inland Revenue,' offered to pay 70007.; they agreed to removal on those terms. At nine this morning MacSpigot came to the distillery for the money; gave him a check, crossed, on Moonshine and Glitter; he waited to see the stuff removed; at twelve Muffle and Twigg sent down; got their check, uncrossed, for 30007.; cashed it an hour afterwards; and now we are safe till Monday morning, as our check can't be presented to-day. That's what I've done, and devilish glad I am,-that's to say, the Lord be praised-it's all over! I hope you've made it all right!"

"Here," said William Handyside, taking out his pocket-book, "here are six Foreign-office passports; no description of persons, nothing but the names, different of course in each. Three of them are for you, and that money we'll divide, for fear of accidents. The Baron Osy leaves at two to-morrow morning for Antwerp; I've taken tickets and secured berths. We must be on board to-night,-not later than ten."

"What have you done down there?"

"Sent word to say we're engaged till late-not to sit up for either of us."

"And the Chambers?"

"Oh, the clerks will be there on Monday. We'll take the key of this place with us. Meantime we may as well be seen as usual. I've ordered dinner at six at the 'Peacock,' in Lime-street. Ask for No. 7, first floor, if you arrive first."

The worthy partners now separated and betook themselves to their customary avocations. Mercantile engagements were entered into, prospective arrangements made, and manifold dealings transacted, with an air so assured as to awaken fresh confidence in many who had begun to doubt.

"Graysteel and Handyside did a good deal in wools to-day," said Ruddle, of Turnbull Alley.

"Yes," replied Honeyball, of Cateating-street; "sold them three hundred bales myself."

"They're all right, now, I fancy," observed Ruddle.

"Safe as the Bank," returned Honeyball; "I have heard Graysteel say that Soaper, of 'Godsend, Stiffs,' had offered him 6d. a cwt. above prices at two to-day if he'd sell all his tallows and cocoas, but that he declined, as he expects a rise on Monday of one-and-six, at least!"

"Wish I'd known that sooner!" said Ruddle; "wouldn't have parted with mine! Graysteel has good information!"

"Good as any man on 'Change," replied Honeyball.

On that Saturday afternoon, in fact, there was quite a general desire in the City to do business with "Graysteel and Handyside," and more than one broad-shouldered broker went back to his turbot and mutton at Hoxton, discontented at not having had a deal with the enterprising firm; more than one comely "waiter upon Providence" inwardly rejoiced, during the sermon next day, at having parted with his "Great Screw Nuggets" or his "West Cockatoos" at something like a premium of eleven-sixteenths to "Graysteel and Handyside." On the following Monday morning, however, the discontented began to chuckle and the smug to look sour, when a whisper got abroad that something had gone wrong with "the enterprising firm;" and when, about noon, it became

generally known that both the partners had disappeared, leaving behind them an immense amount of liabilities, variously estimated at from three hundred thousand pounds to a million, every feeling was absorbed in one universal consternation. Addle-street, Old Jewry, Garlick-hill, Great St. Thomas Apostle, all the lanes and rows, all the holes and corners in the City of London, poured forth their loud-voiced denunciations. Rums, which had opened lively, straightway became dull, Saltpetre was neglected, Currants were inanimate, Tallow ceased to be firm, Brown Jamaicas were depressed, Native Ceylons went down, Great Screw Nuggets, West Cockatoos, East Elizabeths, Royal South Unities, Chimborazos, Purgatorios, every mining share that existed, and every mining share that did not exist-the latter by far the most numerous-went down deep as the shafts that led-or did not lead to their treasured secrets; nothing looked up,-nothing could look up in the midst of such general confusion. To say that the market was merely "flat," was to utter a phrase without meaning; the simile of a pancake no longer had any significance: if you wanted the real type of collapse, it was only to be found in the moral prostration of the house of Godsend, Stiff, and Soaper, the great bill-brokers in St. Withold's.

Monday, the 18th of June, was the anniversary of Waterloo, the day of the great failure at Sebastopol. Napoleon's discomfiture, the bitter disappointment of the Allies, were terrible things in their way, but they never came near the state of mind of Mr. Jabez Soaper, when he found that the promissory note of "Graysteel and Handyside" for one hundred and sixty-three thousand pounds eighteen and sixpence-with interestwas on that day dishonoured. The curse might have fallen on Israel before, but he, like Shylock, never felt it till then. Even the sensations of Mr. MacSpigot, the exciseman, cauterised as his inner man had long been, and impersonal as he was in the affair, even his sensations, I were scarcely pleasant, when the check on "Moonshine and Glitter" was returned to the "Inland Revenue" ominously labelled with "No effects!"

say,

But what are the groans of money-bags when weighed in the balance against the tearful silence of an anxious household; what the billbroker's baffled expectations against the doubt, the dread, the agony of a fond and trusting wife, of a loving though neglected daughter; what the duped speculator's vexation against the shame, the sorrow of honest, noble minds! Let us regret, as our natures permit, the shock which commercial credit receives when great defalcations occur; but let no comparison be made between the loss of pelf and the abasement of all we hold dear. The next time Mr. Honeyball sells his wool he may find a safer customer; the next time Mr. Jabez Soaper "accommodates" a doubtful party he may possibly be more successful; but when the heads of families are branded as fraudulent bankrupts, what remedy can minister to the grief of those whose belief in their father's integrity, whose reverence for their parents' name, is destroyed for ever!

CHAPTER IV.

ANTWERP.

THE mists had all cleared away from the waters of the Scheldt, when the passengers on board the Baron Osy came on deck to catch a first glimpse of the world-famed spire of Antwerp Cathedral, as it rose in mid-air across the broad Polders of Zwyndrecht, distinctly visible in the clear, blue sky, though still many miles distant. Amongst the number of curious gazers were two Englishmen : one, a brisk, fresh-complexioned, sandy-haired person, about five-and-forty, who told the steward of the vessel, in answer to his inquiry, that his name was Harmer; the other, a tall, dark-browed, sallow-faced man, apparently some five years older, who called himself the Reverend Mr. Golding. These two were friends, and, like the majority of English travellers, did not seem much disposed to make acquaintance with any of their companions, but kept aloof from the rest in the bows of the steamer, intently watching the gradually developing city. Having once taken up their position, forward, they did not remove from it until the Baron Osy brought up at the landing-place on the Quay Vandyck; they were then the first to hasten on shore, Mr. Harmer leading, closely followed by his reverend friend.

The custom-house examination ended, the ordeal of the hotel commissioners had next to be undergone. This is a trial of temper in all countries, but especially in Belgium, where touting appears to be the national characteristic. Mr. Harmer and Mr. Golding were, like the others, assailed on all hands by a cohort of clamorous voices, all speaking English as fluently and about as elegantly as if they had acquired their knowledge of the language exclusively at Wapping, which, in many instances, was the fact. One little hook-nosed fellow, who represented the Hôtel St. Antoine, greatly distinguished himself by his noisy activity, and if he had had to deal with a milder personage than the Reverend Mr. Golding, he would undoubtedly have succeeded in his object; but his anxiety to effect a capture extending to that gentleman's great-coat, which hung on his arm, he was saluted by so heavy a blow that he instantly measured his length in the gutter, amidst the shouts and jeers of his associate touters. You may abuse a Belgian as much as you please -he cares nothing about that-but, if you strike him, I would have you beware. In Flanders generally, but more particularly in Antwerp, there is enough of Spanish blood left to account for the revengeful spirit which resents a personal injury, and the little commissionnaire of the Hôtel St. Antoine showed that he was not without his share of it. He rose from the ground, livid with rage, and fixing his keen black eyes on Mr. Golding, seemed for a moment as if, like a wild cat, he were about to fly at his throat; but he either thought better of it or was suddenly influenced by some new idea, for, refraining from any attack, he seemed to content himself with closely scanning the features of his foe, and when he had gazed his fill he shook his head and laughed bitterly, as much as to say, it would take a long time before he forgot either the man or the blow. Mr. Harmer, who evidently knew the character of the people and the customs of the place better than his companion, had, in the mean time, been good-humouredly elbowing his way through the crowd, whose

importunities he quietly resisted, and succeeded in getting clear of them, called a vigilante from the rank on the quay to convey himself and friend direct to the Malines railway station. There was a delay of about ten minutes before their baggage was brought out from the Custom-house, and while they were waiting for it the hotel commissionnaires dispersed in various directions with the other travellers, all except the one whom Mr. Golding had maltreated. He remained, with folded arms, leaning against a wall, interested only in the movements of the person by whom he had been outraged. While there he stood, sufficiently near to hear what was said, a few words passed between the two Englishmen.

"I wish to Heaven," said Mr. Golding, "they would make haste with our things; we can't get away too soon from this place."

"Of course not," replied Mr. Harmer; "it would never do to stay here; we might as well be on Cornhill."

"How far is it to Brussels?"

"Only an hour, by the rail."

"You know where to go to there?"

"Oh, I know the place well. There is a house called the Singe d'Or in the Fossé aux Loups where you might remain for Oh, here comes the baggage."

"Thank God! Get in! Tell him to drive quick."

The vigilante moved off at a rapid pace, watched till it disappeared from the quay by the little commissionnaire. When it had turned the

corner he muttered:

"Those are not common travellers; everybody stops at least a few hours in Antwerp; that one, at any rate, has never been here before; they are only going to Brussels; why should they be in such a hurry? They don't seem to care about money; the commissioner got what he asked without a word. Not stay to see the cathedral-the museumnothing-not even to breakfast! Singular! Well!"

He then left the position he had taken up against the wall, crossed the quay, and went on board the Baron Osy, asking for the steward.

"Have they no express-trains in this country?" asked Golding of his companion, in a discontented tone, when the train drew up at the first station outside of Antwerp, and a host of holiday-makers got out to join in the festivities of a kermesse in the village close by; "do they stop at all these wretched places? It seems to me that they travel very slowly!" "Railway travelling in Belgium is slow," replied Harmer, carelessly, you needn't mind; we're fairly off now.'

"but

"I see they've got the electric wires along the line," observed Golding, after a pause.

"What does that signify! No one here knows anything about us." "Who can tell what may happen before we get to Brussels. Ah! what's that? Some one climbing outside the carriage. Coming in here! They've caught us!"

"Nonsense! it's only the guard collecting the tickets; they always do it this way in Belgium; don't betray yourself! There's not the slightest reason to be afraid!"

"Is this the Brussels terminus?"

"No! we're at Mechlin-only half-way; we shall be kept here ten minutes. This is the place where all the Belgium railways unite." "From Ostend,-and Calais ?"

"Yes."

"Suppose they have telegraphed from London!"

"You forget this is Sunday. Nobody knows we're off yet. It can't be known till to-morrow, and then they must find out which way we've gone."

"Is your money safe?" asked Golding, when they were again in motion. "That cursed fellow at Antwerp wanted to get hold of my great-coat with this pocket-book in it."

"Oh, mine's all right,” replied Harmer. mean ?"

"The one I knocked down."

"Oh, it was you did that, was it? kind, but didn't take much notice.

"What fellow do you

I saw there was a scuffle of some It's just as well he didn't have you

up for it. Our journey might have been stopped altogether!" "I was angry and hurried.

I'll be more careful another time. I wish I had given him some money. Do you think he was likely to lay a complaint after we left? They might stop us on that account!"

"No, not now. These people are passionate, but it's soon over."

"I wish I hadn't struck him. On the Sabbath, too! I forgot that !" "Forget everything but the fact that we're at our journey's end. There's Lacken and the Allée Verte! Five minutes more and we shall be safe in Brussels."

"I hope so!" sighed the man of constant apprehensions, he who never yet had quailed at any evil doing, had never shrunk back from any attempt, however daring. But to have courage before the deed and after it are two different things.

Harmer's coolness was justified by the fact that no impediment lay between them and the Fossé aux Loups, and they slept that night at the Singe d'Or.

CHAPTER V.

BRUSSELS.

"Do you think we are far enough off?" inquired Golding, as he sat at breakfast next morning, with the partner of his flight, in the small, dingy café of the hotel.

"For the present, yes," replied Harmer. "Besides, I have one or two things to do before we set out again. We must change one of the large notes, get up fresh passports, and have a look at to-morrow's Times. It will be soon enough to start when we know we are advertised."

"I dreamt," said Golding, "that we were in Clerkenwell prison; and when I woke this morning I could hardly get rid of the notion, the bedroom was so strange and dreary. What do you mean about fresh passports ?"

"As soon as we get back those which were taken to the Préfecture de Police last night, I must copy the timbre and signatures; type for handprinting can easily be had; I brought tracing-paper and blocks with me; and, thanks to my skill in wood-cutting, it won't take long to manufacture a stamp with an impression quite as good as theirs. So you see, Graysteel

"For God's sake don't mention my real name!" exclaimed the false Golding, in accents of terror. "We shall be discovered to a certainty through your want of caution."