HOW IT’S DONE.

A Hand-book to Honesty.

NO.  V.—­MONEY LENT (ONE WAY AMONG MANY.)

SCENE I.—­Apartment of innocent but temporarily impecunious person.

I.P. discovered reading advertisements and correspondence.

[Illustration]

Impecunious Person.  Humph!  It sounds all right.  I have heard that these Loan-mongers are sometimes scoundrels and sharks.  But this one is surely genuine.  There is a manly frankness, a sort of considerate and sympathetic delicacy about him, that quite appeals to one.  No inquiry fees, no publicity, no delay!  Just what I want.  Has clients, men of capital, but not speculators, who wish to invest money on sound security at reasonable interest.  Just so!  Note of hand of any respectable person sufficient. That’s all right.  Advance at a few hours’ notice.  Excellent!  Let me see, the address is Fitz-Guelph Mansions, W. That sounds respectable enough.  A penniless shark would hardly live there.  By Jove, I’ll write, and make an appointment at his own address, as he suggests.

[Does so, hopefully.

SCENE II.—­Fitz-Guelph Mansions, W., at 11 A.M. Enter Impecunious
Person, hurriedly.

Impecunious Person.  Ah!  I’m a little bit late, but here’s the place sure enough, and that’s the number.  Fine house, too.  Nothing sharkish about this, anyhow.

[Makes for No. 14, consulting his watch.  On door-step encounters another person, also apparently in a hurry, and also consulting his watch.  This person is perhaps a trifle shabby-genteel in attire, but genially pompous and semi-military in bearing.  He makes as if to go, but stopping suddenly, stares at I.P., and addresses him.—­

Ahem!  I—­a—­beg pardon, I’m sure, but have you by any chance an appointment for 11 A.M. at this address, with a Mr. MUGSNAP?

I.P.  Why—­a—­yes, as a matter of fact, I have.

Mr. Mugsnap.  Quite so.  And your name is SOFTSHELL?

I.P.  Well—­yes, as a matter of fact, it is.

Mr. Mugsnap (cheerily).  Ah! that’s all right.  Well met, Mr. SOFTSHELL! (Produces letter.) This is yours, I fancy.  The time was eleven sharp, and you’re just seven minutes and a quarter behind.  I was just off, for if I gave all my clients seven minutes and a quarter grace, I should lose about four hours a day, Sir. (Laughs jovially.) But no matter!  Just step this way. (Produces latch-key.) But no, on second thoughts I won’t go back.  Unlucky, you know!  We’ll step across to the Wine Shades yonder, and talk our business over together with a glass of sound port, my boy.  Best glass of port in London, BUMPUS sells, and as an old Army Man I appreciate it.