is dressed many degrees above the highest fashionable point, and looks a dissipated, hopeless blackguard.  Planner, very subdued, very pale, and therefore very unlike himself, stands behind the chair of Allcraft; and ever and anon he casts a rueful glance over the shoulder of his friend, upon the papers which his friend is busy with.  No one speaks.  At intervals Mr Bellamy coughs extensively and loudly, just to show his dignity and independence, and to assure the company that his conscience is very tranquil on the occasion—­that his firm “withers are unwrung;” and Mr Brammel struggles like an ill-taught bullfinch, to produce a whistle, and fails in the attempt.  With these exceptions, we have a silent room.  A quarter of an hour passes.  Michael finishes his work.  He spends one moment in reflection, and then he speaks:—­

“Now, gentlemen,” he begins with a deep sigh, that seems to carry from his heart a load of care—­“Now, if you please”—­

The paper and the poker are abandoned, chairs are drawn towards the baize-covered table.  The partners sit and look at one another, face to face.

“Gentlemen,” said Michael, at first slowly and seriously, and in a tone which none might hear beyond their walls—­“you do not, I am sure, require me to advert to all the causes which have rendered this meeting necessary.  I have no desire to use reproaches, and I shall refer as little as I may to the past.  I ask you all to do me justice.  Have I not laboured like a slave for the common good?  Have I not toiled in order to avoid the evil hour that has come upon us?  Have I not given every thing—­have I not robbed another in order to prop up our house and keep its name from infamy?”

“Be calm, be calm,” interposed Mr Bellamy gently, remarking that Allcraft slightly raised his voice at the concluding words.

“Calm! calm, Mr Bellamy!” exclaimed the unhappy speaker, renouncing without hesitation all attempts at the suaviter in modo, and yet fearful of showing his indignation and of being overheard—­“Calm!  It is well for you to talk so.  Had I been less calm, less easy; had I done my duty—­had I been determined seven years ago, this cruel day would never have arrived.  You are my witness that it never would.”

Mr Bellamy rose with much formality from his seat.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I cannot submit to dark and plebeian innuendoes.  I have come here to-day, at great personal inconvenience, and I am prepared to listen respectfully to any thing which Mr Allcraft thinks it his duty to bring before us.  But I must have you remember that a gentleman and a man of honour cannot brook an insult.”

“I ask your pardon, sir,” added Allcraft, in a tone of bitterness—­“I meant no insult.  Pray be seated.  I have the honour to present you with a statement of our affairs.  We have claims upon us, amounting to several thousand pounds, which must be met within a week.  A third of the sum required will not be at our command.  How is it to be obtained? and, if obtained, how is it to repair the inroads which, year after year, have been made upon the house, and how secure it from further spoliation?  It is useless and absurd to hide from ourselves any longer the glaring fact that we are on the actual verge of bankruptcy.”