“Where is Whedell?” said he.  “I can’t dance attendance on him all day.”

It was always remarked that Quigg put off his slow and stately method of speech, when dealing with obstinate debtors.

The terrified Mary lost her presence of mind, and replied; “In the first floor, front.”  Quigg mounted the stairs with surprising agility, and gave a hard rap at the door of the first floor front.

Mr. Whedell said, in a voice calm with despair, “Come in.”  In the few minutes that had elapsed since the retirement of Chiffield, Mr. Whedell had privately determined to give up everything to his creditors, leaving them to divide the spoils among themselves, and then to go out, expend his last quarter on a dose of poison, and end his existence.  This resolution, suddenly taken, imparted preternatural composure both to his mind and his face.  He could now see his way out of all difficulties—­or out of the world, which is the same thing.  Clementina, who had not yet risen to that height of philosophy, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed with fresh violence.

Quigg entered, and at a glance saw that he had lost.  He stopped short in the bow that he was intending to make.

“Well, Whedell,” said he, roughly, “how are things to-day?” By “things,” he always meant money.

“Not a penny,” said Mr. Whedell.  “I’ve done my best to pay you, and failed.”

“Just as I expected.  Serves me right.  I never was forbearing with a debtor, that I didn’t get chiselled this way.  Strike me if I ever make the mistake again.  This marriage of your daughter’s, which was going to set you up in funds, has proved a fizzle, eh?  Instead of taking somebody in, you have been taken in yourself.”

Quigg laughed; and then remembering that a delinquent debtor was before him, assumed his wonted serious aspect.

At this allusion, poor Mrs. Chiffield burst into tears again.  Mr. Whedell adroitly turned the circumstance to advantage.  He pointed to her, and said, “There is my reply.”

Quigg felt that he was losing ground on these side issues.  “Well, Whedell, we must have a settlement to day.  You owe me one hundred and fifty dollars.  Turn over all your furniture to me, and we’ll call it square.”

Mrs. Chiffield doubled her sobs anew.  But Mr. Whedell said, “Very good.  Take everything, I shall want nothing where I am going.”

Quigg had been accustomed to these dark hints from contumacious debtors, and was not to be frightened.  “I accept your offer,” said he, “and will take everything.”

At this moment, a rush, as of many feet, was heard upon the stairs.  The owners of the feet appeared to be literally tumbling up in their anxiety to get up.  By the time Quigg could open the door, a half dozen flushed persons were ready to step in, and did so, brushing him aside.  More than a score of others followed, and all plunged pell mell into the presence of Mr. Whedell and daughter.