Another extraordinary thing that struck me long after, but did not at the time, was that the business he came upon made no particular impression on my mind, any more than if it had been the most ordinary thing in the world.  That to me is still inexplicable.

My visitor did not let troubles sit upon him, if troubles he ever had, for he seemed to be in the highest spirits.  Society kept him ever in a state of effervescent hilarity, so that he never let anything trouble him.  At this time he was making at the Bar seven or eight thousand a year, and consequently, I thought, must be the happiest of men.

His manner was agreeable, and his face wore a smile of complacency at variance with the nature of his errand, which he quickly took care to make known by informing me that he was in a devil of a mess, and did not know what he should do to get out of it.

“Oh,” I said quite carelessly, “you’ll manage.”  And little did I think I should be the means of fulfilling my own prophecy.

“The fact is, my dear Hawkins,” said the wily intriguer, for such he was, “I’ll tell you seriously how I stand.  To-morrow morning I have bills becoming due amounting to L1,250, and I want you to be good enough to lend me that sum to enable me to meet them.”

I was perfectly astounded!  This greatness to have come down to L1,250 on the wrong side of the ledger.

“I have no such amount,” said I, “and never had anything like it at my bank.”  I must say I pitied him, and began to wonder in what way I could help him.  He was so really and good-naturedly in earnest, and seemed so extremely anxious, that at last I said, “Well, I’ll see what I can do,” and asked him to meet me in court the following morning, when I would tell him whether I could help him or not.

His gratitude was boundless; my kindness should never be forgotten—­no, as long as he lived! and if he had been addressing a common jury he could not have used more flowers of speech or shed more abundant tears to water them with.  I was the best friend he had ever had.  And, as it seemed afterwards, very foolishly so, because he told me he had not one farthing of security to offer for the loan.  A man who ought to have been worth from fifty to a hundred thousand pounds!

However, I went to my bankers’ and made arrangements to be provided with the amount.  I met him at the place of appointment, and was quite surprised to see the change in his demeanour since the day before.  He was now apparently in a state of deeper distress than ever, and thinking to soothe him, I said, “It’s all right; you can have the money!”

Once more he overwhelmed me with the eloquence of a grateful heart, but said it was of no use—­no use whatever; that instead of L1,250 he had other bills coming in, and unless they could all be met he might just as well let the others go.

“How much do you really want to quite clear you?” I asked, with a simplicity which astonishes me to this day.