“And what has crushed you?”

“The roundabout swindle.”

“There, now, he invents words as well as things.  Come, tell me all about the roundabout swindle.”

“No, no; I haven’t the heart left to go through it all again, even in words.  One would think an inventor was the enemy of the human race.  Yes, I will tell you; the sight of you has revived me a bit; it always does.  Well, then, you know I am driven to invention now; it is my only chance; and, ever since Mr. Carden spoke to me, I have given my whole soul to the best way of saw-grinding by machinery.  The circular saws beat me for a while, but I mastered them; see, there’s the model.  I’m going to burn it this very afternoon.  Well, a month ago, I took the other model—­the long-saw grinder—­up to London, to patent the invention, as you advised me.  I thought I’d just have to exhibit the model, and lodge the description in some Government office, and pay a fee, of course, to some swell, and so be quit of it.  Lord bless you—­first I had to lay the specification before the Court of Chancery, and write a petition to the Queen, and pay, and, what is worse, wait.  When I had paid and waited, I got my petition signed, not by the Queen, but by some go-between, and then I must take it to the Attorney-general.  He made me pay—­and wait.  When I had waited ever so long, I was sent back to where I had come from—­the Home Office.  But even then I could not get to the Queen.  Another of her go-betweens nailed me, and made me pay, and wait:  these locusts steal your time as well as your money.  At last, a copy of a copy of a copy of my patent got to the Queen, and she signed it like a lady at once, and I got it back.  Then I thought I was all right.  Not a bit of it:  the Queen’s signature wasn’t good till another of her go-betweens had signed it.  I think it was the Home Secretary this time.  This go-between bled me again, and sent me with my hard-earned signatures to the Patent Office.  There they drafted, and copied, and docketed, and robbed me of more time and money.  And, when all was done, I had to take the document back to one of the old go-betweens that I hoped I had worn out, the Attorney-general.  He signed, and bled me out of some more money.  From him to the other go-betweens at Whitehall.  From them to the Stamp Office, if I remember right, and oh Lord, didn’t I fall among leeches there?  They drafted, they copied, they engrossed, they juggled me out of time and money without end.  The first leech was called the Lord Keeper of the Seal; the second leech was called the Lord Chancellor; it was some go-between that acted in his name; the third leech was the Clerk of the Patents.  They demanded more copies, and then employed more go-betweens to charge ten times the value of a copy, and nailed the balance, no doubt.  ’Stand and deliver thirty pounds for this stamp.’  ’Stand and deliver to me that call myself the Chancellor’s purse-bearer—­and there’s no such creature—­two