In the afternoon I received the following reply: 

“Sir,—­I am exceedingly surprised at your addressing yourself to me about the bills you handed to my daughter.  She tells me she will give you them back in person when you shew more discretion, and have learnt to respect her.”

This impudent letter so enraged me that I forgot my vow of the morning.  I put two pistols in my pocket and proceeded to the wretched woman’s abode to compel her to return me my bills if she did not wish to be soundly caned.

I only took the pistols to overawe the two male rascals who supped with them every evening.  I was furious when I arrived, but I passed by the door when I saw a handsome young hairdresser, who did the Charpillon’s hair every Saturday evening, going into the house.

I did not want a stranger to be present at the scene I meant to make, so I waited at the corner of the street for the hairdresser to go.  After I had waited half an hour Rostaing and Couman, the two supports of the house, came out and went away, much to my delight.  I waited on; eleven struck, and the handsome barber had not yet gone.  A little before midnight a servant came out with a lamp, I suppose to look for something that had fallen out of the window.  I approached noiselessly, stepped in and opened the parlour-door, which was close to the street, and saw . . . the Charpillon and the barber stretched on the sofa and doing the beast with two backs, as Shakespeare calls it.

When the slut saw me she gave a shriek and unhorsed her gallant, whom I caned soundly until he escaped in the confusion consequent on the servants, mother, and aunts all rushing into the room.  While this was going on the Charpillon, half-naked, remained crouched behind the sofa, trembling lest the blows should begin to descend on her.  Then the three hags set upon me like furies; but their abuse only irritated me, and I broke the pier-’glass, the china, and the furniture, and as they still howled and shrieked I roared out that if they did not cease I would break their heads.  At this they began to calm.

I threw myself upon the fatal sofa, and bade the mother to return me the bills of exchange; but just then the watchman came in.

There is only one watchman to a district, which he perambulates all night with a lantern in one hand and a staff in the other.  On these men the peace of the great city depends.  I put three or four crowns into his hand and said “Go away,” and so saying shut the door upon him.  Then I sat down once more and asked again for the bills of exchange: 

“I have not got them; my daughter keeps them.”

“Call her.”

The two maids said that whilst I was breaking the china she had escaped by the street door, and that they did not know what had become of her.  Then the mother and aunts began to shriek, weep, and exclaim,—­

“My poor daughter alone in the streets of London at midnight!  My dear niece, alas! alas! she is lost.  Cursed be the hour when you came to England to make us all unhappy!”