“The history of my wrong-doing is the history of hundreds of others.  I was a clerk in a bank, and getting on as well as I could expect in that not very progressive avocation, when I had the misfortune to make four very undesirable acquaintances.  They were all young men, though rather older than myself, and were close friends, forming a sort of little community or club.  They were not what is usually described as ‘fast.’  They were quite sober and decently-behaved young follows, but they were very decidedly addicted to gambling in a small way, and they soon infected me.  Before long I was the keenest gambler of them all.  Cards, billiards, pool, and various forms of betting began to be the chief pleasures of my life, and not only was the bulk of my scanty salary often consumed in the inevitable losses, but presently I found myself considerably in debt, without any visible means of discharging my liabilities.  It is true that my four friends were my chief—­in fact, almost my only—­creditors, but still, the debts existed, and had to be paid.

“Now these four friends of mine—­named respectively Leach, Pitford, Hearn, and Jezzard—­were uncommonly clever men, though the full extent of their cleverness was not appreciated by me until too late.  And I, too, was clever in my way, and a most undesirable way it was, for I possessed the fatal gift of imitating handwriting and signatures with the most remarkable accuracy.  So perfect were my copies that the writers themselves were frequently unable to distinguish their own signatures from my imitations, and many a time was my skill invoked by some of my companions to play off practical jokes upon the others.  But these jests were strictly confined to our own little set, for my four friends were most careful and anxious that my dangerous accomplishment should not become known to outsiders.

“And now follows the consequence which you have no doubt foreseen.  My debts, though small, were accumulating, and I saw no prospect of being able to pay them.  Then, one night, Jezzard made a proposition.  We had been playing bridge at his rooms, and once more my ill luck had caused me to increase my debt.  I scribbled out an IOU, and pushed it across the table to Jezzard, who picked it up with a very wry face, and pocketed it.

“‘Look here, Ted,’ he said presently, ’this paper is all very well, but, you know, I can’t pay my debts with it.  My creditors demand hard cash.’

“‘I’m very sorry,’ I replied, ‘but I can’t help it.’

“‘Yes, you can,’ said he, ‘and I’ll tell you how.’  He then propounded a scheme which I at first rejected with indignation, but which, when the others backed him up, I at last allowed myself to be talked into, and actually put into execution.  I contrived, by taking advantage of the carelessness of some of my superiors at the bank, to get possession of some blank cheque forms, which I filled up with small amounts—­not more than two or three pounds—­and signed with careful imitations of the signatures of some of our clients.  Jezzard got some stamps made for stamping on the account numbers, and when this had been done I handed over to him the whole collection of forged cheques in settlement of my debts to all of my four companions.