It is these things, my dear sir, which serve to make a man cynical.  I do conscientiously believe that had I cashed the Major’s cheque there would have been a difficulty about payment on the part of the respected bankers on whom he drew.  On your honor and conscience, do you think that old widow who was walking from Tunbridge Wells to Harlow had a daughter ill, and was an honest woman at all?  The daughter couldn’t always, you see, be being ill, and her mother on her way to her dear child through Hyde Park.  In the same way some habitual sneerers may be inclined to hint that the cabman’s story was an invention—­or at any rate, choose to ride off (so to speak) on the doubt.  No.  My opinion, I own, is unfavorable as regards the widow from Tunbridge Wells, and Major Delamere; but, believing the cabman was honest, I am glad to think he was not injured by the reader’s most humble servant.

What a queer, exciting life this rogue’s march must be:  this attempt of the bad half-crowns to get into circulation!  Had my distinguished friend the Major knocked at many doors that morning, before operating on mine?  The sport must be something akin to the pleasure of tiger or elephant hunting.  What ingenuity the sportsman must have in tracing his prey—­what daring and caution in coming upon him!  What coolness in facing the angry animal (for, after all, a man on whom you draw a cheque a bout portant will be angry).  What a delicious thrill of triumph, if you can bring him down!  If I have money at the banker’s and draw for a portion of it over the counter, that is mere prose—­any dolt can do that.  But, having no balance, say I drive up in a cab, present a cheque at Coutts’s, and, receiving the amount, drive off?  What a glorious morning’s sport that has been!  How superior in excitement to the common transactions of every-day life! . . .  I must tell a story; it is against myself, I know, but it will out, and perhaps my mind will be the easier.

More than twenty years ago, in an island remarkable for its verdure, I met four or five times one of the most agreeable companions with whom I have passed a night.  I heard that evil times had come upon this gentleman; and, overtaking him in a road near my own house one evening, I asked him to come home to dinner, In two days, he was at my door again.  At breakfast-time was this second appearance.  He was in a cab (of course he was in a cab, they always are, these unfortunate, these courageous men).  To deny myself was absurd.  My friend could see me over the parlor blinds, surrounded by my family, and cheerfully partaking of the morning meal.  Might he have a word with me? and can you imagine its purport?  By the most provoking delay, his uncle the admiral not being able to come to town till Friday—­would I cash him a cheque?  I need not say it would be paid on Saturday without fail.  I tell you that man went away with money in his pocket, and I regret to add that his gallant relative has not come to town yet!