“You may find that more difficult than you imagine,” replied Wilkinson, with some impatience.

“No—­no—­we never have much difficulty in collecting debts of this kind.”  There was a meaning emphasis on the last two words, which Wilkinson understood but too well.  Still he made answer,

“You may find it a little harder in the present case than you imagine.  I never received value for these tokens of indebtedness.”

“You must have been a precious fool to have given them then,” was promptly returned, with a curling lip, and in a tone of contempt.  “They represent, I presume, debts of honour?”

“There was precious little honour in the transaction,” said Wilkinson, who, stung by the manner and words of the collector, lost his self-possessions.  “If ever a man was cheated, I was.”

“Say that to Mr. Carlton himself; it is out of place with me.  As I remarked a little while ago, my business is to collect the sums called for by these due-bills.  Are you prepared to settle them?”

“No,” was the decisive answer.

“Perhaps,” said the collector, who had his part to play, and who, understanding it thoroughly, showed no inclination to go off in a huff; “you do not clearly understand your position, nor the consequences likely to follow the answer just given; that is, if you adhere to your determination not to settle these due-bills.”

“You’ll make the effort to collect by law, I presume?”

“Of course we will.”

“And get nothing.  The law will not recognise a debt of this kind.”

“How is the law to come at the nature of the debt?”

“I will”—­Wilkinson stopped suddenly.

“Will you?” quickly chimed in the collector.  “Then you are a bolder, or rather, more reckless man than I took you for.  Your family, friends, creditors, and mercantile associates will be edified, no doubt, when it comes to light on the trial, under your own statement, that you have been losing large sums of money at the gaming table—­over two thousand dollars in a single night.”

A strong exclamation came from the lips of Wilkinson, who saw the trap into which he had fallen, and from which there was, evidently, no safe mode of escape.

“It is impossible for me to pay two thousand dollars now,” said he, after a long, agitated silence, during which he saw, more clearly than before, the unhappy position in which he was placed.  “It will be ruin anyhow; and if loss of credit and character are to come, it might as well come with the most in hand I can retain.”

“You are the best judge of that,” said the collector, coldly, turning partly away as he spoke.

“Tell Carlton that I would like to see him.”

“He left the city this morning,” replied the collector.

“Left the city?”

“Yes, sir; and you will perceive that all of these due-bills have been endorsed to me, and are, consequently, my property, for which I have paid a valuable consideration.  They are, therefore, legal claims against you in the fullest sense, and I am not the man to waive my rights, or to be thwarted in my purposes.  Are you prepared to settle?”