Feverish and impatient, I wished to walk out, but I dared not meet the public eye.  I waited till dark, and then I sallied forth, hardly knowing where I went.  I passed the gaming house—­I did pass it, but I returned and lost every shilling; not, however, till the fluctuations of the game had persuaded me, that had I had more money to carry it on, I should have won.

I went to bed, but not to sleep; I thought of how I had been caressed and admired, when I was supposed to be rich.  Of what use then was the money I possessed?  Little or none.  I made up my mind that I would either gain a fortune, or lose that which I had.  The next morning I went into the city, and sold out all the remaining stock.  To Timothy I had not communicated my intentions.  I studiously avoided speaking to him; he felt hurt at my conduct, I perceived, but I was afraid of his advice and expostulation.

At night-fall I returned to the hell—­played with various success; at one time was a winner of three times my capital, and I ended at last with my pockets being empty.  I was indifferent when it was all gone, although in the highest state of excitement while the chances were turning up.

The next day I went to a house agent, and stated my wish to sell my house, for I was resolved to try fortune to the last.  The agent undertook to find a ready purchaser, and I begged an advance, which he made, and continued to make, until he had advanced nearly half the value.  He then found a purchaser (himself, as I believe) at two-thirds of its value.  I did not hesitate, I had lost every advance, one after another, and was anxious to retrieve my fortune or be a beggar.  I signed the conveyance and received the balance, fifteen hundred and fifty pounds, and returned to the apartments, no longer mine, about an hour before dinner.  I called Timothy, and ascertaining the amount of bills due, gave him fifty pounds, which left him about fifteen pounds as a residue.  I then sat down to my solitary meal, but just as I commenced I heard a dispute in the passage.

“What is that, Timothy?” cried I, for I was nervous to a degree.

“It’s that fellow Emmanuel, sir, who says that he will come up.”

“Yesh, I vill go up, sar.”

“Let him come, Timothy,” replied I. Accordingly Mr Emmanuel ascended.  “Well, Emmanuel, what do you want with me?” said I, looking with contempt at the miserable creature who entered as before, with his body bent double, and his hand lying over his back.

“I vash a little out of breath, Mr Newland—­I vash come to say dat de monish is very scarce—­dat I vill accept your offer, and vill take de hundred pounds, and my tousand which I have lent you.  You too mush gentleman not to help a poor old man, ven he ish in distress.”

“Rather say, Mr Emmanuel, that you have heard that I have not ten thousand pounds per annum, and that you are afraid that you have lost your money.”

“Loshe my monish!—­no—­loshe my tousand pound!  Did you not say, dat you would pay it back to me, and give me hundred pounds for my trouble; dat vash de last arrangement.”  “Yes, but you refused to take it, so it is not my fault.  You must now stick to the first, which is to receive fifteen hundred pounds when I come into my fortune.”