“No, there is too much Caudleism in her to make her worthy of that; but this is no time for our jokes.  Your suspicions are too true; but how shall we act? what plans shall we adopt?”

“None, Harry, but this;—­we must act as though we were the most honest men on earth, and act not as though we suspected any of suspecting us.”

“O, yes, I understand you, Bill; we must not suspect anything wrong in her.”

“That’s it,” answered Bill, and, plunging his hand into his pocket, he drew from thence a small scrap of greasy, pocket-worn paper, and read a few words in a low whisper to his friend Harry.  A nod from the latter signified his approval.  He returned the mysterious memorandum to his pocket, and planting upon his head a poor, very poor apology for a hat, swung his body round a few times on his heel, and leaving the house; pushed open a small wicket-gate, and entered the street.  He hurriedly trudged along, heaping silent curses upon the head of Harry’s boy, the kitchen-girl, and sundry other feminine and masculine members of the human family not yet introduced to the reader.

Bold Bill gone, Harry sat for some considerable length of time ruminating upon the strange turn affairs had taken, and indulging in vague speculations upon whether the next would be as unfavorable; and at this point of our story we will divulge somewhat of his history.

Henry Lang had been in years past a man well-to-do in the world; he was once a merchant respected for his strict integrity and punctuality in business affairs; but by a false step, a making haste to be rich, he was ruined.  The great land speculation of ’37 and thereabout was the chief, and in fact the only cause of his misfortune.  On one day he could boast of his thousands, and no paper held better credit than that signed or endorsed by him.  The next, the bubble broke, his fortune was scattered, his riches took to themselves wings and flew away, his creditors, like vultures, flocked around and speedily devoured what little remained of his once large possessions.  He was a man easily affected by such occurrences, and they deeply wounded his sensitive feelings.  What should he do?  He looked around upon those who once professedly loved him; but no hand was extended, no heart sympathized with him in the hour of trouble.  He left his country, and with it a wife and one child, a daughter, lovely, if not in personal appearance, in highly virtuous and intellectual qualities, which, after all, will be admitted to be of more value than that which time withers and sickness destroys.

With a sad heart Mr. Lang left these and the spot of earth around which many fond recollections clustered.  After twenty months of tedious wanderings, he returned, but he was a changed man; his ambitious spirit had been crushed, all his hopes:  had departed, and he gave himself up to the fanciful freaks of a disordered mind.  Defeated in his honest endeavors to obtain a livelihood, he was now seeking out dishonest ways and means to retrieve his fallen fortune.  He sought for those of a kindred spirit, nor was he long in finding such; in a short time he became acquainted, and soon after connected, with a gang of adventurous men, about six in number, who by various fraudulent means were each amassing much wealth.