The cause of this fainting being traced to Lady Swiggs’ pocket book instead of her heart, the whole scene changes, Sister Slocum becomes as one dumb, the good fat man is seized with a nervous fit, the man in the spectacles hangs his head, and runs his fingers through his crispy hair, as Brother Spyke elongates his lean body, and is seen going into a melancholy mood, the others gathering round with serious faces.  Lady Swiggs commences describing with great minuteness the appearance of Mr. Tom Toddleworth.  That he is the person who carried off the money, every one is certain.  “He is the man!” responds a dozen voices.  And as many more volunteer to go in search of Mr. Detective Fitzgerald.  Brother Spyke pricks up his courage, and proceeds to initiate his missionary labors by consulting Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, with whom he starts off in pursuit of Mr. Tom Toddleworth.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mr. Snivel advises George Mullholland how to make strong love.

Let us leave for a time the pursuit with which we concluded the foregoing chapter, and return to Charleston.  It is the still hour of midnight.  There has been a ball at the fashionable house of the Flamingo, which still retains its name.  In the great parlour we have before described, standing here and there upon massive tables with Egyptian marble-tops, are half-empty bottles of wine, decanters, tumblers, and viands of various descriptions.  Bits of artificial flowers are strewn about the carpet, a shawl is seen thrown over one chair, a mantle over another; the light is half shut off-everything bears evidence of the gaieties of luxurious life, the sumptuous revel and the debauch.  The gilded mirrors reflect but two faces, both hectic and moody of dissipation.  George Mullholland and Mr. Snivel face each other, at a pier-table.  Before them are several half filled bottles, from one of which Mr. Snivel fills George’s glass.

“There is something in this champaign (one only gets rubbish in these houses) that compounds and elevates one’s ideas,” says Mr. Snivel, holding his glass in the light, and squinting his blood-shotten eyes, the lids of which he has scarce power to keep open.  “Drink, George-drink!  You have had your day-why let such nonsense trouble you?  The whole city is in love with the girl.  Her beauty makes her capricious; if the old Judge has got her, let him keep her.  Indeed, I’m not so sure that she doesn’t love him, and (well, I always laugh when I think of it), it is a well laid down principle among us lawyers, that no law stands good against love.”  Mr. Snivel’s leaden eyelids close, and his head drops upon his bosom.  “She never can love him-never!  His wealth, and some false tale, has beguiled her.  He is a hoary-headed lecher, with wealth and position to aid him in his hellish pursuits; I am poor, and an outcast!  He has flattered me and showered his favors upon me, only to affect my ruin.  I will have—­”