“Titmarsh my boy,” said he one day to me, after looking me hard in the face, “did you ever hear of the fate of the great Mr. Silberschmidt of London?” Of course I had.  Mr. Silberschmidt, the Rothschild of his day (indeed I have heard the latter famous gent was originally a clerk in Silberschmidt’s house)—­Silberschmidt, fancying he could not meet his engagements, committed suicide; and had he lived till four o’clock that day, would have known that he was worth 400,000_l_.  “To tell you frankly the truth,” says Mr. B., “I am in Silberschmidt’s case.  My late partner, Hoff, has given bills in the name of the firm to an enormous amount, and I have been obliged to meet them.  I have been cast in fourteen actions, brought by creditors of that infernal Ginger Beer Company; and all the debts are put upon my shoulders, on account of my known wealth.  Now, unless I have time, I cannot pay; and the long and short of the matter is that if I cannot procure 5,000_l_. before Saturday, our concern is ruined!”

“What! the West Diddlesex ruined?” says I, thinking of my poor mother’s annuity.  “Impossible! our business is splendid!”

“We must have 5,000_l_. on Saturday, and we are saved; and if you will, as you can, get it for me, I will give you 10,000_l_. for the money!”

B. then showed me to a fraction the accounts of the concern, and his own private account; proving beyond the possibility of a doubt, that with the 5,000_l_. our office must be set a-going; and without it, that the concern must stop.  No matter how he proved the thing; but there is, you know, a dictum of a statesman that, give him but leave to use figures, and he will prove anything.

I promised to ask Mrs. Hoggarty once more for the money, and she seemed not to be disinclined.  I told him so; and that day he called upon her, his wife called upon her, his daughter called upon her, and once more the Brough carriage-and-four was seen at our house.

But Mrs. Brough was a bad manager; and, instead of carrying matters with a high hand, fairly burst into tears before Mrs. Hoggarty, and went down on her knees and besought her to save dear John.  This at once aroused my aunt’s suspicions; and instead of lending the money, she wrote off to Mr. Smithers instantly to come up to her, desired me to give her up the 3,000_l_. scrip shares that I possessed, called me an atrocious cheat and heartless swindler, and vowed I had been the cause of her ruin.

How was Mr. Brough to get the money?  I will tell you.  Being in his room one day, old Gates the Fulham porter came and brought him from Mr. Balls, the pawnbroker, a sum of 1,200_l_.  Missus told him, he said, to carry the plate to Mr. Balls; and having paid the money, old Gates fumbled a great deal in his pockets, and at last pulled out a 5_l_. note, which he said his daughter Jane had just sent him from service, and begged Mr. B. would let him have another share in the Company.  “He was mortal sure it would go right yet.  And when he heard master crying and cursing as he and missus were walking in the shrubbery, and saying that for the want of a few pounds—­a few shillings—­the finest fortune in Europe was to be overthrown, why Gates and his woman thought that they should come for’ard, to be sure, with all they could, to help the kindest master and missus ever was.”