“Stop, sir!” said Robinson, “to make sure I will describe our property—­seventy notes of one hundred pounds each.  Numbers one five six naught to one six two nine.”

Mr. Williams examined the bundle, and at once handed them over to Robinson, who shoved them hastily into George’s hands and danced for joy.

Mr. Williams looked ruefully at Meadows, then he hesitated; then, turning sharply to Crawley, he said, “Where did you get these?”

Meadows tried to catch his eye and prevail on him to say nothing; but Crawley, who had not heard Levi’s evidence, made sure of saving himself by means of Meadows’ reputation.

“I had them from Mr. Meadows,” he cried; “and what about it? it is not the first time he has trusted me with much larger sums than that.”

“Oh! you had them from Mr. Meadows?”

“Yes, I had!”

“Mr. Meadows, I am sorry to say I must commit you; but I still hope you will clear yourself elsewhere.”

“I have not the least uneasiness about that, sir, thank you.  You will admit me to bail, of course?”

“Impossible!  Wood, here is a warrant, I will sign it.”

While the magistrate was signing the warrant, Meadows’ head fell upon his breast; he seemed to collapse standing.

Isaac Levi eyed him scornfully.  “You had no mercy on the old Jew.  You took his house from him, not for your need but for hate.  So he made that house a trap and caught you in your villainy.”

“Yes! you have caught me,” cried Meadows, “but you will never cage me!” and in a moment his pistol was at his own temple and he pulled the trigger—­the cap failed; he pulled the other trigger, the other cap failed.  He gave a yell like a wounded tiger, and stood at bay gnashing his teeth with rage and despair.  Half a dozen men threw themselves upon him, and a struggle ensued that almost baffles description.  He dragged those six men about up and down, some clinging to his legs, some to his body.  He whirled nearly every one of them to the ground in turn; and, when by pulling at his legs they got him down, he fought like a badger on his back, seized two by the throat, and putting his feet under another drove him into the air doubled up like a ball, and he fell on Levi and sent the old man into Mr. Williams’ arms, who sat down with a Jew in his lap, to the derangement of his magisterial dignity.

At last he was mastered, and his hands tied behind him with two handkerchiefs.

“Take the rascal to jail!” cried Williams, in a passion.  Meadows groaned.  “Ay! take me,” said he, “you can’t make me live there.  I’ve lived respected all these years, and now I shall be called a felon.  Take me where I may hide my head and die!” and the wretched man moved away with feeble steps, his strength and spirit crushed now his hands were tied.

Then Crawley followed him, abusing and reviling him.  “So this is the end of all your maneuvering!  Oh, what a fool I was to side with such a bungler as you against Mr. Levi.  Here am I, an innocent man, ruined through knowing a thief—­ah! you don’t like that word, but what else are you but a thief?” and so he followed his late idol and heaped reproaches and insults on him, till at last Meadows turned round and cast a vague look of mute despair, as much as to say, “How am I fallen, when this can trample me!”